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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 



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Idylls of Bird Life 

Bird and Nature Essays 


BY 


BERT G. HOCHWALT 


EDITED BY 

PRAXIDES BLANDFORD HOCHWALT 


WITH INTRODUCTION 
BY 

WILL WILDWOOD 

AND 

MEMOIR 

BY 

J. O. ASHBURTON 



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Copyright, October, 1923 
PRAXIDES BLANDFORD HOCHVVALT 
All rights reserved. 


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A. F. HOCHWALT COMPANY 

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PUBLISHER 
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dedication 




To a Bird Lover 




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d ERT ’ man, husband, father, 
Companion, lover of birds. 

Whose heart was ever in\tune 
With Naturej 
Sharing her secrets and 

Opening the wonder-wqrld 
To his 

Grateful wife, Praxides, 
and 

Daughter, Constance Marie. 


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CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Foreword. 9 

Introduction . 11 

Memoir of Bert G. Hochwalt. 15 


Springtide 

Birdlife in Spring.. .. 29 

The Romance of Mr. and Mrs. Bob White.. 45 

Home Building in the Bog.\. . . 56 


X/ 


The Domestic Affairs of the Sora Rails 


. v > 


Bob Whites at Home.V. . 70 

vn 

The Mallard’s Rendezvous. 78 

Summertime 

Rambles of a Bird Lover. 89 

The Robin’s Menu. 95 

The Robin as an Insect Destroyer.. 99 

The Bluebird’s Repast.. . . 101 



Autumnal Days 


( 


Autumn .. 109 

118 




Afield in October. 
Old Head Hunter. 


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Winter Months 




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Our Feathered Winter Residents... 127 

A Winter’s Walk in Highwood.•. . 140 



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FOREWORD 


7 


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X 


HIS collection of Nature-essays now presented to the 
reading public, is not a scientific treatise, but the plain 
notes and impressions of an amateur bird-lover. The 
young spirit that has since passed away, endeavors to have us 
take an interest in bird life. 


J 


There exists, in fact, a three-fold interest in this subject: 

i j 

the aesthetic, the intellectual and the cultural. The appeal 
that the color, the sound and the flight of birds makes, enriches 


our sense of the beautiful. The study of the kinds of birds, 

/ \ 

v ;-v. \ '/ .*/, 

their manners and habits, and their relations to us are interest- 

r — — X _ ^ ' - 

ing and useful subjects for the mind’s attention, and the store¬ 
house of our knowledge. Furthermore, any subject that can 
help us wing our flight heavenward, has its cultural effect in 

\ >! smiMr 


taking us out of the materialism found in our daily lives. The 
consideration of Nature, and in particular the interest in bird 
life, unfolcjs to us the order of Providence, furnishing us with 
so many more pathways to the Creator. 

The purpose of editing the present collection of essays is 
not to offer this slight contribution to the literature of Nature 


it/; 


!/ 


study, but rather, as a tribute of love and gratitude to a corn- 

pi [ 9 ] 










panion who loved Nature, and who inspired me with an interest 
in the feathery kingdom. May this offering show the way to 
others and present new visions of refinement! 

The essays have been arranged according to the seasons. 
This order seems to be the natural way, even though the divi¬ 


sions are not balanced in number, owing to the untimely death 
of the author. 


I wish to thank the editors of The Sportsmen s Review 

'Vi 

and of Birds and Nature for the permission to publish several 
essays in this collection. 

I am very grateful for the aid which my friends have given 


ti the various stages of the publication. 


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March 21, 1923. 



Praxides Blandford Hochwalt. 












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INTRODUCTION 


By Will Wildwood 
(fred e. pond) 




I N the brief span of an ideal life of rare promise — closing 
when he had but reached the early prime of manhood — 

Bert Hochwalt had given evidence of natural talent as a 

i, *<* 3 ? 

writer on outdoor recreation, showing a spirit of keen enthusi¬ 
asm, and a knowdedge of birds, gained through habits of close 
observation, which combined to make his essays remarkably 
entertaining and instructive. 






The many friends whose good fortune it was to know him 
intimately, found charm and inspiration in his companionships 
Holding high ideals, seeking field and forest for study of bird 
life and all the animate life therein, he had the enthusiasm of 


SV) - 


a young Audubon, and a chat or a stroll with Bert Hochwalt 
was a delight to his associates. Manly, in the true sense of the 

word, there was in him a spirit of chivalrv, a determination to 

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do justice to all; in fact, he was one “in whose brave spirit 


Nature fused the tenderness of woman.” 


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Although fond of healthful open-air recreations, particu- 


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larly those of the fields and woods, he loved the pursuits of 

[ 11 ] 


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the naturalist to an evenf greater degree than those of the sports¬ 


man — as clearly demonstrated in his writings. His descrip¬ 



tions of the haunts and habits of favorite song and game birds 


Hal pen pictures. Every season of the year had charm for 




him, and his impressions of scenes and places are given in 


/‘i<- 






graphic style, stimulating in the reader a desire for Nature 


study. 


W 


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'“There is an object lesson, pleasantly given, in each of the 
> ' \ \ essays in this volume, and I venture to mention especially “The 


/fM 


Romance of Mr. and Mrs. Bob White,” as a classic conveying 

? 

an ideal worthy of preservation in the minds and hearts of all 


v 


sportsmen whose cherished recreation is with dog and gun afield 

! '""7 x v 

in pursuit of the game birds mentioned. Therein is inspiration 
for a sportsman-naturalist. 

I 

Avoiding the technical phrase and coldly scientific method 


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of many writers on ornithology, Bert Hochwalt’s charming 


\ 


chapters relating his experiences among birds seem to take the 


V. 


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reader along with him in his rambles to enjov companionship 

; / £.>■- - N 

with the birds — songsters and feathered friends of the game 


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bird species. 


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Many sportsmen and Nature lovers who have read and ad- 


mired — as a writer of this brief commentary 







[ 12 ] 


y —the delightful 

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sketches from Bert Hochwalt’s pen at the time of their publica¬ 
tion, several years ago, will appreciate the re-publication in 
more enduring form—an appropriate tribute to his zeal as a 
naturalist, his genuine manliness, and an abiding remembrance 
of the good influence that will be thus carried through life with 
those holding fond memories of one whose early death ended a 

















MEMOIR 


“There was a boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs 
And islands of Winander!—many a time, 

At evening, when the earliest stars began 
To move along the edges of the hills, 

Rising or setting, would he stand alone, 

Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake.” 

William Wordsworth. 


T 


O the subject of this biographical sketch, could William 
Wordsworth have addressed his poem. From his child¬ 
hood days there became manifest a great love for the 




out-of-doors. In his boyhood hours and short-lived manhood 
days, his predominant interest lay in the Kingdom of the Birds. 

I f V, f J 

Albert G. Hochwalt was born at Dayton, Ohio, June 25, 

1893. His parents were of families, well-known and highly 

respected in the community. The father, early associated 

• • • ^ -. - "1 

with a group of literature-loving youth, was already at the &■ 

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birth of young Albert, a nature-writer and traveler. Despite 

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the frequent absence, the parent’s love of birds, became the 




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child’s possession. In addition to this early influence, the 

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abiding interest of a devoted mother who lived for her children, 

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manifested itself in that finer feeling and sense of delicacy that 






made up the soul of the boy-naturalist 

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The child’s father, Albert Frederick Hochwalt, whose 

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name appears in almost every out-door magazine of the 




country, is an authority on animal life. He was, undoubtedly, 





boy’s first inspiration. Young Albert at the age of six, 
had already acquired a knowledge of birds, and could dis¬ 


tinguish quite a number of them. The study of birds had 


been the senior Albert’s hobby, but the son was to take a still 


‘ ; '-A 


fy greater interest. He was indeed, an apt nature student. In 


the pictures snapped, when the lad was ten years of age, his 

very pose was one of conscious quest for the birds in the trees. 

Learning to read, he turned naturally to the subject that 

was already inspiring to his youthful mind. A collection of 

nature books became one of his early ambitions. He would 

1 . . 

read for hours, following his author-guide in the adventures 

\ 1 ( / \ \ 

which he was to duplicate in fact. Prolonged residence at 


<*■•>» v r» \ r , f 1 x 

Highwood farm along the Stillwater River gave him oppor¬ 
tunity to gain in bird lore. Here; his first adventures were 

\ ^ J \ ^ 

undertaken in the woods and along the river bank. His 
library was a treasure trove for him. The books were well 


thumbed. Upon his return from every adventure in birddom, 
he would hasten to the authorities on the subject and seek 


new light, or a solution to a new problem that baffled him 



[ 16 ] 









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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


Young Albert had the ideal company of three younger 
brothers who early learned to appreciate their big brother’s in¬ 
terest in birds. No better companion could these boys find, than 
their father. He was playmate, instructor, guide and father to 
the growing lads, and they responded whol^-heartedly to the 
moulding influences of the paternal parent. The eldest son, 
however, was to resemble most the father in literary talent and 

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love of Nature. Young Albert’s teachers in the elementary' 

[ I / 

classes recall his interest in the collectibn of insects and love 

\ 

for observation. Here, he was already an interesting com- 
panion, manifesting an advanced knowledge in the denizens of 
the woods. 







, • 1 . y’^-5 

V. 

111 


He attended the High School of the University of Dayton, 


V 



from 1907-1911. During the time of his high school career, a 

love for flowers manifested itself. His interest in Nature 

\ . ^ : . ! I .. 

ened. Though at all times a good sportsman and a real Amer- 

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ican boy, with his interest in baseball, basketball, dawn tennis, 

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a study of Nature at unlooked-for moments would hold hjs 

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attention. Because of this predominating interest some of his 
classmates facetiously termed him “caveman.” For want 



of 


better name this word signified the embryo naturalist. In his 











IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


first Nature story. In the early winter of 1908 he spent a few 
days on the farm, “Highwood.” Upon his return home he 
penned his observations and submitted the article for publica¬ 


tion. It was accepted by the Sportsmen s Review and ap- 




peared in the January, 1909, issue under the title: “A Winter’s 
Walk in Highwood.” The die was cast. Bert, as young Albert 




called, now resolved to observe Nature even more and to 
interpret the beauty thereof to all who would listen. 

His interest in walks increased, and many a companion 
^^unleamed in the beauties of Nature followed at first unwillingly, 

' }J 

blit returned with the deep interest of a convert, in the glory of 
creation and eyes opened to new visions of Nature’s miracles. 

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Notes taken on his observation-walks now took form and in 

1 p 

191Q, at the age of sixteen, he wrote the essay: “Birdlife in 


Spring/’ It was published in the Sportsmen s Review of the 



same year. 



Bert G. Hochwalt finished High School in 1911 and entered 

■4 SSVa .... ... J 

the office of one of the public utilities of his native city, Dayton, 
Ohio. His days were spent in industrious work at the desk; 




but the love for the out-of-doors never deserted him. 


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alf-holiday and Sunday, along with the big vacations, he sho 

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the city’s dust to roam in the woods or to paddle his canoe; but, 










IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


all the while with that spirit of observation, that learned how to 
linger when fainter hearts grew weary. In 1914 he wrote, as a 
result of his observations, and at the request of Fred E. Pond 
(Will Wildwood), the article: “The Romance of Mister and 
Mistress Bob White.” This charming essay appeared in the 

/ ♦Sa 

holiday number of the Sportsmen’s Review. In the same 
issue appeared the article: “Our Feathered Winter Residents. 

The following year saw the publication of “The Robin’s Menu, 

~ in the April issue of the Sportsmen s Review. A year jrftg 

, /Y 

he wrote, “The Blue Bird’s Repast,” and “The Robin, an,Insect. J 
Destroyer.” Besides showing the romance of bird-life, our 
youthful author could not lose sight of the practical value. 

To his filial affection for his parents and his admiration 
for the out-doors, a new love now entered his life. He wrote 
of romances, but he, too, was the hero of a charming romance 

/ / L. _~ e-y a / J ^ ys 

with his lady-love. On the first day of the most beautiful month 3 /« ^ 

. / ■ -yv.. y 

of May, 1917, Bert G. Hochwalt was married to Miss Praxides 

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Marie Blandford. This charming young lady appreciated the 



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tastes of the young benedict, and was his most appreciative com- 


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panion in his out-door studies. His great love for Nature was 
not to diminish; it was to be enhanced by the greater love, for 






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the companion of his too short a life. 


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S OF BIRD LIFE V 



Many had been the walks in the days of his courtship, but 

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were to be more frequent. 

During the long vacation he left the city, and with his 


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young wife dwelt along the Miami in their little cabin, 
“Justamere Shack.” In these happy days of carefree hours, he 






could indulge to his heart’s content in his wanderings among 






the bird haunts of these shores. His cheery invitation, in tones 



ecstatic, called to come and see the glories of bird-land, never 
left him go alone. There was always a companion. To the 
uninitiated, however, there was the first remonstrance, “Do 
not scare the birds,” and the second one, “Can’t you seer” 

His writing now kept pace with his notes. Among the 

I * y < 

beautiful and ideal surroundings of “Justamere Shack” he 

J \ \ 

prepared the. essay: “Rambles of a Bird-Lover.” The walks 
that he took on the autumnal days of 1918 inspired the 

r-’T • . .\ 

beautiful word-painting: “Autumn.” 

A little fairy appeared at his home during this year. The 


little visitor was Miss Constance Marie Hochwalt. The father’s 


( 


heart rejoiced and a still greater sympathy was manifested for 
the singing life in the forest. 


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A reserved interest in the habits of the owl family led him 


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to revise his notes of 1916 and to publish the study, entitled: 

[ 20 ] 




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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 



“Old Head Hunter.” It appeared in the magazine, “Birds and 
Nature,” of 1918. 

On May 30, Decoration Day, of 1919, he attended the last 
family reunion at “Justamere Shack,” his ideal haunt for bird- 
lore. Sure t$ leave the crowd, he returned to the wondering 
party with the invitation, “Let me show you a new bird-nest.” 
Bert Hochwalt was not unsociable, but he would be certain to 

go to his favorites, the birds, and share with them the time of 

! ! . 

his recreations. 

\ \ f ; 

The year 1919 promised to be one of unusual literary ) 

/ \ \ 

activity for the young author, who was now assured of reader 
He was invited by a Nature Magazine to write a bird article 
each month. The notes and souvenirs of his walks were brought 
out from the desk and there evolved the following studies: 






“Home Building in the Bog,’ 

“The Domestic Affairs of the Sora Rails,” 
“Bob Whites at Home,” 

“The Mallard’s Rendezvous,” 

‘Afield in October.” 




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Here was more than promise, but the Lord of Nature loved 




that soul attuned to His Creation. 

[ 21 ] 




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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


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In July, 1919, commenced a siege of illness which de¬ 
veloped into a wasting affliction that finally took him from this 

earth in March, 1920. 

A 

s -. v. 

At one time during his illness a change of climate w T as 
sought to give him a fighting chance. At first he refused to take 
the proffered opportunity, for he could not leave his wife and 
child. “I’d rather be home with you,” was his justification. 

But even here, his love for his birds and the trees and flow¬ 
ers did not dampen. They brought him daily courage to fight 



his losing battle. He appreciated his flower-laden apartment 


and noticed the birds whose music penetrated his room. 


A beautiful coincidence occurred in this last illness. All 

-v 


the winter of nineteen hundred and nineteen, two birds were 

> 

frequent, if not daily visitors at his residence on Forest Avenue. 
In the garden adjoining the house two robins with white stripes 
v : p." on their backs came up to the very window of their sympathetic? 
brother. 




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In a final attempt to bring about a cure, the father induced 


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the son to accompany him on a trip South. He seemed to rally, 


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but his return home hurried the final summons to a new life. 
His last words were uttered when someone asked the name of 






MMk. [ 22 ] 







IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


the bird now singing. The bird-lover answered: “The 
Cardinal.” 

Flere was the passing of a great soul. Twenty-seven years 
old, on the eve of real authorship, he was called to an eternal' 


/ - 


life. His essays must not be read as if a series of technical 
studies, but as the true, yet romantic quest of the bird’s 
troubadour. 


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J. O. Ashburton. 


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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 





A FEW OF THE BIRD FAMILY 


The Old Bob White, and chipbird ; 

The flicker and chee-wink, 

And little hopty-skip bird 
Along the river brink. 


The blackbird and snowbird, 
The chicken-hawk and crane ; 
The glossy old black crowbird ; 
And buzzard down the lane. 


The yellowbird and redbird, 

The tom-tit and the cat; 

The thrush and that redhead bird 
The rest’s all pickin’s at! 



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The cockadoodle-doo bird, 
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The jay-bird and the bluebird, 

, 

The saj>suck and the wren- 




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And our old settin’ hen! 


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James Whitcomb Rilev 




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SPRING 


Hark! the hours are softly calling 
Bidding Spring arise, 

To listen to the rain-drops falling 
From the cloudy skies. 

To listen to, earth’s weary voices, 
Louder every day, 

Bidding her no longer linger 
On her charm’d way; 

But hasten to her task of beauty 
Scarcely yet begun. 


Adelaide A. 









































BIRD LIFE IN SPRING 


A 


“Hear how the birds on ev’ry blooming spray, 

With joyous music wake the dawning day.” 

Alexander Pope. 

f 

S the last dreary days of Winter pass and the early ones 
of balmy Spring appear, the first feathered songsters 
begin to arrive from the Sunny South. Everything in 
Nature takes on a new lease of life, and everybody is joyous and 
light at heart. The fast returning birds fill sweet fragrant out- 
of-doors with their exquisite notes. Signs of rejuvenated Spring 
are seen everywhere. The naked trees of Winter take on a rich 

f N, |! yvVyl 1 '/■ 

leafy covering, and the orchards are filled with the fragrant bios- 
soms of the pear, apple and cherry trees. Before youthful Spring 
has fairly proceeded on its way, all of our feathered friends have 
arrived from their distant journeys. The orchards are alive 

\ . . . (I 

with robins, catbirds, orioles, blue jays, bluebirds, wrens, car¬ 
dinals and scores of other songsters too numerous to mention. 

\ ) \ 

As the weeks take on warmth and verdure these feathered 

neighbors begin their nesting season. It is concerning this mor 
ment in the bird’s life, around which I shall weave my story. 

One sunshiny afternoon, about the latter part of April, as 
I was coming home from school, I noticed a pair of blue jays 



IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


flitting about a tall elm that stood along the road. They were 
apparently seeking a suitable place for a nesting site. Soon 


their nest would contain two or three greenish-colored eggs. 
I noted the fact and marked the tree. For several days after, I 




saw nothing of my new friends, and I decided that they must 
have selected a more secluded place for their home. About a 
week after my discovery, I saw Mr. Jay carrying a twig, at 
about a quarter of a mile from the elm. As I walked along the 


\ 


road, noticing the rich display of Nature on every side of me, 



I happened to see that Mr. Jay had flown down toward the tree. 
I hastened along the macadamized road until I came to the spot, 


and there, sure enough, this restless bit of anatomy was busv 


constructing a rude nest, which, because of its high altitude, 

• appeared to be of the same color as its surroundings. As soon 

Y - . ^ 




as Lmade my appearance, and as long as I remained watching 


these busy marauders, they kept up a constant screaming, which 
seemed t&me as if they were trying to tell me in blue-jay 

A 

language, to mind my own business. 



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§ 


For several weeks after I continued to watch the jays, and 




finally the mother took to the nest. As I passed day after day, 




gis>“ 



IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


from the chance attacks of passing hawks or other bird ene¬ 
mies. I did not attempt to disturb these birds while they were 
brooding. One day as I passed, I saw the nest minus Mother 
Jay, and knowing that she had gone off to feed, I quickly 
climbed the tree, and with some difficulty succeeded in reaching 
the rude abode. There, on a soft lining of horsehair, probably 
gathered along the road, I saw the prettiest little eggs imagin-' v 
able. They were three in number, and about as big as'a robin’s 
egg, greenish-yellow in color, sprinkled here and th£re w.itE, 
reddish-brown and dull lilac spots. 


In due time three featherless jays sprang into/ existence, 
and they kept their parents busy filling the little hungfy mouths. 
About four days after their entry into this world, I climbed up 
to their rough but secure home, and viewed the featherless, half- 


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starved little fellows. Their eyes were still closed, and they 

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thrust their tiny bodies about in a blind fashion. 

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Owing to our spring vacation, which occurred ^t this time, 

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I did not have occasion to visit the jay family, aftehmy secopd 

fa 

intrusion into their home. But when school resumed, about 

, . lu 

two weeks later, I saw two of the young jays perched on a limb 

above their home and ready to launch out into the cruet" world 

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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 





and shift for themselves. What had become of the other fellow? 
I cannot say, but I hope that some swooping hawk did not make 
a breakfast on its diminutive body. After this I necessarily 
severed my connections with my blue jay acquaintances. 



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It was on a warm afternoon, in the middle of May, during 
a lull in a hotly-contested tennis game, while resting with a 
number of companions in the cool shade of a row of sweet 

syringas that bordered the court, that I was attracted by hearing 

sA f / 

the rustle of leaves directly back of me and about five feet from 
the ground. Curious to know the nature of the commotion, I 
began an investigation, and after live or ten minutes, I was too 

excited to take the exact time, I found the ragged but well-made 

■' i 'A )/ . 1 

nest of a pair of catbirds. It was the “papa bird” who had dis- 

l , \ [f ) / \ . 

turbed me while he was busy feeding his modest little brown- 

\ ¥ / 9 i Y 

eyed mate, who sat silently brooding over her nest, apparently 
undisturbed by this close proximity of danger. 

As soon as I discovered this precious chance of studying 
the catbird and its habits, I lost all interest in the tennis game, 
although it was ,my serve, the score was forty love, and I had a 


A 




m w» 


\\\i \ 

r \ 

s i\ ' v 


i»MS 




[ 32 ] 







IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 





m 


girl friend for my partner. We decided to quit the game for that 

afternoon, so as not to disturb the little brooding mother in the 

nearby bushes. The next morning, although Jupiter Pluvius 

had opened the flood gates of heaven and the rain was coming 

down in torrents, I visited my newly-discovered feathered 

friends. To my delight I found that the rain had left the nest 

untouched. Not to take any chances I hastily built a sort of 

shelter to protect the brooding bird. By noon the clouds shifted, 

and old Sol again smiled upon the earth. This same day was 

\ \ i: 1 $ tffjh 

the last I saw of my catbird friends. All during the time the 

catbird’s mate was brooding, hi£ long, glorious song second 

only to that of the bell bird or woodthrush in exquisiteness of 

tone, was heard throughout the day. I did not get to see the 

live pretty dark green-blue eggs, as thev had quickened before 

—"X . . - y 

I discovered the pair. The mother bird scarcely left the nest, 

save to trim her glossy black and slatey-colored feathers early 

\ . . . . ^ 

in the morning. Despite my early rising one morning at half 

past four, to get a peep at the contents of the nest, it appeared 

k ) ' ' -y > k; / ! 

as if she had secured double trimming the day before, inasmuch 

as she remained brooding all day. 

About ten days after my discovery, I saw, while strolling 
through the orchard back of the house, the mother bird busily 

[ 33 




IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


gathering food. At my approach she hastily flew in the direc¬ 
tion of the syringa bushes, and I guessed that the young were 
-''out.of the shell. When I reached the nest I found that I had 
.guessed rightly. Five hungry little downy birds thrust their 



heads out\of the nest. The mother bird had been there before 
my approach, and now the father appeared, and fearlessly 


wfed the nest and gave his supplv of food to the hungry 


-Efrdlings. This industrious pair of little workers had more than 
they could take care of in supplying the babes. Occasionally 
helped them along, by bringing berries and crumbs, and I soon 
i/$Dn their entire confidence. In about ten days the young left 







the-nesti, and, as these neighborly birds are summer residents, 

^ 0 ° 

we had the profound pleasure of listening to their sweet song 


p 


through the long weeks of summer and autumn, until the 
migraton- period took them southward. 


' a 


00 



An evening in early May, just as twilight was beginnings. .' 
o pervade the atmosphere, I was coming through an open 


woods, a short-cut from the city to my home, when I heard 
distinct song of a brown thrasher as h^ was bidding aii- 



day goodbve. The song that reached my ears came frpm 


rf 


T 




SSfVj 









IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


X 


I 






the wood to the left of me, and having plenty of time I deter¬ 
mined to discover the possessor of that exquisite song. Care¬ 
fully threading my way over the thick carpet of the last year’s 
leaves, I had proceeded about a hundred feet, when I perceived 

the most beautiful brown thrasher of my birdv career. HeAras 

> r '- 

sitting on the topmost branch of a red haw, and his tail kept -r 

\ 

twitching and wagging about as if to help him express his 

(/\ 

emotions. As soon as he saw me, for I had unnecessarily ex¬ 
posed myself, he was off like a flash, and I knew that my chances 
for seeing him again that night were gone. About a we^, Later," 

J 

for it was now time for the thrasher to mate, I made a special 
trip to the woods to look for the nest which I thought must be 
there. I began by searching the low shrubs and bushes; being 
unsuccessful after two hours of hard work, and as it had grown 

I j - 

dark, I gave up my search for that night, but not without hope 

- ^ 

d-<s 


V 


of finding the thrasher’s abode. Once I caught a fleeting 

glimpse of the male as he darted through the trees, and I & , 
' \ c p iV-’t 

. searched about for an hour, but with no success. Night afteif _ ? 

X Z) \ r be¬ 
night I continued the hunt, and at last, after a week ofLedioffs'f 

work, I discovered in a low briar bush a rather bulkv nest, "made 








■EDYLLS of bird LIFE V 


V 


and a few feathers. The mother bird must have been off feed- 

' v ' . 

ing, as she was nowhere to be seen, and four bluish-white or 
\ greenish colored eggs, about the size of a robin’s egg, were to be 
seen in the nest. I did not tarry long, but carefully marked 
the place and hurried away. 

s/'' i \ ’*<. ■' .1^ 

About a week later, I paid a visit to the thrashers, intent 
upon making a study of the young birds. I went straight to 




where I had marked the location of the nest, but I could not 


/M 

4ft 



N 


Mm 




find it. Further searching failed to reveal their domicile, and 
I began an investigation of the nest. The thrashers’ home had 
been in the center part of the bramble bush about three feet 
from the ground. I could see where some heavy body had 

V / \ 

pushed its way through the brambles to get to the nest. Next, 
I discovered footprints, and the prints being of medium size I 
concluded that some ignorant young “rube” who didn’t have 
sense enough to know the value of a nest full of thrashers’ eggs, 
had stolen them to add to his collection. I was angry with a 

y J \ \ t 

righteous indignation. Had I caught the fellow, I do not care 
if he had been a six-footer, I would have proved to him that 
hereafter he had better leave his hands off the things that did 
not belong to him. I wended my way home,’ feeling sorry for 
the beautiful birds, whose home had been despoiled by some 

[ 36 ] 


/ 




IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


thoughtless fellow. I reported the affair to a game warden, and 
I asked him to keep a sharp lookout for further depredations. 

ifr vv 

One of our commonest, and one of the most delightful of 
our summer birds, is the robin. A pair of them built their nest, 
consisting of mud and sticks plastered together and lined with 
grass, in a big maple that partly shades the veranda which ex¬ 
tends about the front and two sides of our house. Early in 

\ \ „• ,i 'V', 1 i' ; 

April the glad “cheer up, dearie! cheer up, dearie, cheer up! 

/ \ V 4 

cheer up!” of the pair could be heard. In due time the 

mother bird began to nest and brooded faithfully over four 

pale blue eggs. The cheerful red-breasted mate supplied 

her with grubs and insects, and later on berries and such table 

scraps as I always made it my business to prepare for them. 

The birds were very tame, and they would hop about the place, 

picking up food here and there, and very often fly up within a 

few feet of the kitchen door, to take the food they found there. 

One day as I was sitting in the library reading of the trials 
and tribulations of Becky Sharp in Thackeray’s Vanity Fair, I 
heard the loud, excited “kip! kip! kip!” of my robin friends, as 
if they were calling for me. I went out to learn the cause of the 

[ 37 ] 


IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


i, 




excitement and saw a big black cat that belonged to one of the 
neighbors about to pounce upon poor mother robin, who was 
bravely defending her eggs. Hastily seizing a good-sized stone 
I hurled it at that cat. The throw was true, and I don’t sup- 
pose he knew what struck him until about five minutes after¬ 
wards. As soon as he collected his wits he was off, and up to this 


. j 


/> 


v , dayjte has not disturbed a bird about our premises. 

^^bout the last of May the robins were hatched, and now 


was the busy time for the father and mother, who were kept at 


/ „work early in the morning until late at night feeding the four 
} \ hungry birdlets. The youngsters developed fast, and it seemed 



that the faster they grew the more they ate, until finally they 


had the poor parents working overtime; I also helped to feed 




6 


them. In about eleven days the young birds were able to leave & 

OfV, 

'e nest, and then I saw them no more, as they generally take 


,_s 


o the deep woods after the brooding season. The old birds, 




however, visited me almost even' day, and ate the food I pro 


vided for them 




1 '° 


vy- 1 ,' d /.It was the third Sunday in May and a bright sunny afterY 

noon when a crowd of bovs and girls, mvself included, decided ^ 

■ ■■■ ■ 







IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


to go violet gathering. We took the one o’clock car out of town, 
and arrived at our destination, a beautiful spot, an hour later. 

We knew where these dainty blossoms were very plentiful, and 
here we hastened our youthful steps. Soon we were reveling 
in the midst of a patch of blue violets, which seemed almost an 

acre in extent. We were coming over from the car whenT heard 

1 

the plaintive whistle of a quail in the nearby stubble. It was the, -y ' 
nesting season of the quail or Bob White. I slipped away from 
the crowd, lost all interest in the violet expedition, and 



toward the stubble from whence I heard the call. I jumped an 
old snake fence, the abode of thousands of insects, and : §kirtb 

U 4* | 

it down to where I heard the call. Here a tiny babbling brda t k 



// c / * 

threaded its silver course and was lost in the woods beyon 
carried a stout stick, which I used to poke with among the 

M 

grasses. Directly across the brook in a spot shaded by a giant 
hickory, a whir reached my ears, and I saw a quail go whirling 
through the trees. Then it did not take me long to find the nest, 
which was on the ground in a corner of the fence, roughly 

\ I •*. ' k'"'\ 

arched, and made of grasses, leaves, wood, weeds and straw, t>&. 

carelessly put together. This loosely compiled nest contained 

' 1 { /& 

sixteen of the most beautiful pure white eggs, about a day old, \ 

and I became elated over my find. I again marked the place, 


[ 39 ] 





(\ V/ 

i Ph W 


\|i *j>vir^vik. y!im 1 {k/Jlft 







V 


£ 


/ 


-v\. 

IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


but this time I confidently hoped to find the nest safe when I 
came back. Then I rejoined the bunch, and had to answer a 
thousand and one questions regarding my new feathered 
friends. 


i 






L 


We continued picking the small blue beauties and were 


~2> 


so absorbed in our task that we did not think of the hour until 
the slanting rays of the sun lighting up the edge of the meadow 
and tinting the trees in the distance with a dull gold, warned us 
that it was time “to fold up our tents like the Arabs, and steal 
away.” I reached home that night just as soft evening gently 
and slowly stole over the world, and silently, one by one, the 

i n jf 

stars began dotting the heavens. 

I did not visit the quail nest until about two weeks after * 

my discovery. As it takes about twenty-four davs, however, to 

\ 

hatch a brood, both birds assisting in the incubation, I decided 

to make another journey to the place. I finally found the op- 

■ ■ • . 

portunity. When I reached their home, the mother bird was 
silently brooding, and her eggs must have quickened, as she was 

not inclined to flight as is usually the case, and so I did not dis- 

\ 

turb her. To show that I was her friend I distributed some 

f Of . , i——"* \ 1 I I pk''‘llfT / I 

crumbs about the nest. After this, every two days I visited 
them, and when I came, sometimes the male, and sometimes the 






IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


\ 


female was present. In about ten days’ time the brood, was 
hatched. The little downy Bob Whites, comical to behold, fol- 

■ 

lowed their parents about the ground, learning from both of 
them which berries, seeds and grasses they^might eat. As I was 
watching them one day the mother bird uttlered a shrill “wee 
teek” and instantly the whole bevy, as a flock is called in sports¬ 
man’s parlance, ran to the protecting wings of their mother. 
About a week later I again visited the nest. This time the birds 

/ i - 

were nowhere to be seen; they had probably located in the 

111, , , \ \ #■:; t-w it 

woods hard by, as the weather was unusually warm for this 

time of the year. 









Ifefes NT 


—■—'Jj-! 






u 

\\ 


One evening while returning from a visit to my quail 


-J | * k 


friends, I heard the rich, mellow “cheo! cheo! cheo!” of a car- 
dinal in a willow that overhung the river. I followed the course 
of the stream about a mile. The surrounding country was a 
typical place for red birds and I heard no less than four of these 
sweet songsters during that whole glorious ride. I did not stop 
to investigate the haunts of this American nightingale, as it 



w 


w 


as late in the evening, and I had to hurry home. The next 




day being Saturday, and I arose just as the first gray streaks 


/Zf 


[ 41 ] 









IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 



of dawn began to brighten the western horizon, intent upon 
getting acquainted with the possessor of that sweet song I had 
heard'Othe night before. 

s 1 '' 

I was well on my way of exploration before the rosy-hued 

_ \ 

horizon-overtook me. After an hour’s steady walking I heard 
a faint “cheo! cheo! cheo!” sounding. I took my rifle, which I 
ith5$|PJy carried on such expeditions as this one, and strode 
Tjhickly into the thick line of trees that skirted the river. The 
stream, by the way, scarcely deserved the name of river, as it 

<s\ was not much more than a mere mud hole, and dry during half 

A I y 

i7 ytife year. At the present time it contained about four feet of 

lazily running water. The edge of the stream was a thickly- 

° 

matted mass of wild rose, blackberry bushes, and grape vines; 
atypical nesting location of the cardinal. I scrambled about, 
tearing my clothes on the sharp thorns of the bushes, scratching 

fir u o 

my face^nd hands, and once I sank ankle-deep into some mire 

| — » 

: caused by the rain. As I continued down the edge of the stream 

( 2 > "■ T - f ^ 

peering into every bush that might contain a nest, a red s 
flashed over my head, and without warning a female ca 

c 

Sew past me down the stream. Looking up directly over 
heafd, I saw her nest, situated about six feet from the gro 
in a blooming dogwood, overgrown with wild grape vines, twigs 

[ %1 





IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 



tendrils, and roots, heavily intertwined with grass. The eggs 
were four in number, and bluish white, mottled over with 
brownish and dark lavender specks which gave them a beautiful 
appearance. After examining the nest and its surroundings, 

I sat down on a nearby log to rest. Since the cardinal was one 

of my favorite acquaintances of our feathered neighbors,' ! de- 

I tty 

cided to tarry. I saw Mrs. Cardinal across the wa>\ waiting* 0 ^ 
anxiously for me to leave. As soon as I perceived this,! J moved 
back the way I had come, about a hundred yards, an 
sat down. Presently I saw the faithful aristocratic lit'fle bird^ v 
dart across the river and settle upon her nest. 

While sitting on the moss-covered logs I began to f 
rather sleepy, and as I had risen very early that morning I was 
soon dozing off into the arms of gentle Morpheus. I do not 
know how long I had been oblivious of my surroundings, but, 

< a$ 1 am an easy sleeper ’ 1 was awakened by feeling 

creepy passing over my feet. I quickly opened my eyqs and was 

^rrified at seeing a very large water moccasin or “cotton* ■ 

) . lp p > ' 

inouthed” snake gliding over me. Apparently, I was something 

hew to him, and at every move he woul 

V 



k 


ently, I was something 
Id stop to investigate 


Knowing that this specimen of snake is very poisonous, % Z T$\ 
mained a^ quiet as possible, although my heart, which was Bea 



V‘3 













-V" 


OF BIRD LIFE 



ing like a trip-hammer, nearly betrayed me. After about fif- 

v J. X 

teen minutes, the worst I had passed through in my life, the 



snake moved on. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he glided leisurely 
away. I picked up my rifle and vowed that he would never 
bother anyone again. Taking careful aim, although the sight 

w 

was somewhat shaky before my eyes, I fired, hitting him 

!l dj 

the head. After quivering a few moments, in which 


• h 


’ \ 


711 

w 


his tail thrashed about wildly, he stretched his full length and 






X 


lay still. I left him lying where he fell, and bothered no more 
about him. The morning had well advanced, so I quickly got 
out of the woods and made for home. 

About two weeks after my acquaintance with the “reddest 
red bird” I had ever seen, I approached the nest, and found to 
my delight that it had been usurped by four tiny, hungry birds, 
who kept their parents busy supplying them with food. In a 
few weeks they were old enough to leave the nest, and four more 
red beauties were added to our neighborhood to help cheer us up 
during the long Winter months. 


( 






On many a green branch swinging. 
Little birdlets singing 
Warble sweet notes in the air. 

Flowers fair 
There I found. 

Green spread the meadow all around. 


Vs 




[ 44 ] 


Nit hart. 

- liM ra 








w 
















THE ROMANCE OF MISTER AND MISTRESS 
BOB WHITE AND FAMILY 


“Sweet now at morn and eve the quail 
Repeats his plaintive, whistling note, 
And softly fall the answering cries 
That over wood and corn-field float.’ 


McLellan. 


w 


ft 


. 

HJLE strolling through a stubble held one bright, 


balmy morning in the early Spring of nineteen hun- 





dred thirteen, the clear, staccato call of a Bob White 
came to me on the clarified morning breeze from an adjoining 
corn held. I paused a moment to listen to those enchanting 
notes which are music to the sportsman’s ear. Again, “Bob 

\ 'v % 1 i X/?") 

White! ah, Bob White!” rang out clear and pure from the 
corn held. This time an answering “Bob White!” emanated 




/ j P 

from the stubble. The whistle was repeated and answered nu¬ 
merous times that morning, for it was the mating season of these 


game birds,. 




They say that in the domain of Bob White, mates are not 
easily won, and in one particular case I can vouch for the state¬ 
ment. With the aid of a pair of held glasses and a screen of 
blackberry bushes, I witnessed a most thrilling battle between 

[ 45 ] 




IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


rival males. They would come at each other with the fury of 
game cocks, fighting desperately, pecking and striking at each 
other as if their lives depended upon the issue, and, indeed it 

i 

did, for in that fight the love of a sweetheart was involved. All 


V 


this while the object of their attentions, the little brown de¬ 
mure Miss Bob White, was perched on a stump nearby, viewing 


! 




with^vident satisfaction the battle, which was staged on her 

) ,V I, 7 ° 


I'HI. 



account. Finally, the vanquished bird, thoroughly beaten, 
slowly retreated; and, with an envious eye watched from a dis¬ 


tance the proud victor strutting about before his queen; she, 

/ & , 

by a seeming indifference, concealed her admiration for her 

hf 


hero,- The attitude of the female bird only added to his anger. 

!-A a \, :-j D 

ng the disgruntled rival, the conqueror sent him into igno¬ 


minious flight by a few well directed blows. 


/ 


A few weeks after this episode I re-visited the locality, 


which was only a short distance from town, intent upon finding 




i 4°^ i 

Gx 


my newly-acquired Bob White friends. To my delight, I dis- 

\ s '—* OA} 

covered both birds busily engaged in collecting grasses, leave 



6 ' ' > ^ C- "'r, , ( JL 

and mosses for a large, clumsy nest, that w r as being made on the 


old worm-eaten rail fences. It was a perfect place for coii- 

‘ il \ ' 




cealment; blackberry bushes concealed it from the hungrv eyes 
of passing hawks, and the depredations of mischievous bovs. 

*m. i«i 


Ws 


*1 





IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


Food was to be had in plenty, for a corn field was partly enclosed 
by one of the fences, and the other surrounded an old stubble 
field. Adjacent to this site was a blackberry thicket where the 
fruit was available in season. At intervals the cock bird would 


pause in his work, mount the top rail of the fence, and boldly 
utter his “Bob White! ah. Bob White!” which his demure mate 


s 


. ... i 

coyly answered by her unobtrusive notes, which, interpretated 
by human methods, sounds like “Here’s me!” 


\V 



\ 


Several weeks slipped by; the season was early May when 

Y( 

I again visited the nest. It contained fourteen creamy £gg 

I / V l 

arranged with the utmost care, so as to economize space. On 

: f 

this occasion I saw neither of the birds. They probably were 
feeding; but, as both male and female assist in the incubation, 

Vk 

I knew that one of them would be back in a short time r so 1 




a 


quietly and quickly left the vicinity. 

During the twenty-four days it requires for incubation 

/ C ': V p 

J- N the male Bob White is much in evidence, strutting about and 


V. 


* i? 


Pet 4 


b<\ 


httering his cheery notes from morning until night. He is very 

C ~~—/ % i ■' L> 

fearless during this time and will endanger his own life trying 
to distract the attention of some enemy from his silent brood- 
ing mate and her nest full of eggs. Mistress Bob White is sel- 


[ 47 ] 

<• 



[ 47 ] 


9 tf> 




mmwm 











V 


y 


V'i rr 

Idylls of bird life 


■v" 



dom if even seen during this period; she being busily engaged 




Rf „/'■ • # v 

with her eggs and scarcely finding the time to snatch a few 


mouthfuls of food. Her consort covers the nest during her 



absence. 

'V 

One morning just as Aurora was casting her spell upon the 


earth, I stole out to see how Mr. and Mrs. Bob White and the 
nest'full'of eggs were faring. As I was crossing the road that 
fe'M leads up to the corn field in which their home was located, I 

V 

saW the birds leading a flock of downy little ones into a wood 


\ 


/ 

f 


V 


patch on the other side of the road. I counted twelve chicks, 

/ 

as they scampered for safety under leaves and other available 
hiding places at my approach. 

It was very interesting watching this brood of Bob Whites 

follow their mother about, for in this they are precisely the 

If/ \ \ 

same as young chicks in charge of the mother hen. They soon 


fX 


learned what berries, cereals, seeds and grasses they must eat. 


\ ' 


( 


The parent birds are untiring in their efforts to protect their 

/ . \ .. ) —* 


".CCsiu 





3^oung. The mother bird on the approach of an enemy, will 


utter a shrill warning “wee-teek!” and, while all the youngsters 


are scampering for a place of safety, she feigns lameness or re- 






7/ 



sorts to some other artifice in her endeavors to lead the enemy 


in another direction. 


M' ! jiV rH/J// 


\ 






/ 


M Hi 

UY AmVMA,,,,, 




f 48 ] 


i n 






/1 J 

a W/lnw 




myiivA 1 







IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 




\ 


About a month subsequent to the foregoing episode, ! paid 
another visit to this interesting bird family. I found that the 
young had grown wonderfully during that time and were now 
so nearly their full size that it was difficult to distinguish them 
from the adult birds. They could now easily provide for them- 
selves, but at the least approach of danger they would scamper 
to places of safety in the same manner as when they were downy 
chicks. If one remained very quietly in his place of vantage 

where he could not be seen, he was rewarded by hearing the 

l \ 

\ \ T'-'. w } • v .‘~ 

faint but pathetic “Loi! loi! loi!” as the mother called her brood 

/ \ \ 

to her and endeavored to gather them under her protecting 
wings. These were, however, quite unequal to the occasion 
since her family had grown so large. 

The Summer davs passed and the birds were now full 

— 

grown. From out of the meadows and the stubble came the 
\ lit 

whistle, “Bob White! ah, Bob White!” clear and distinct as in 

the early days of Spring, for the young were now fully grown 

1 . V‘ 

and just as sure on their wings as their parents. One clear, 

frosty morning in early November, I accidentally discovered 

/ j 

the bevy, huddled together in a protecting covert, evidently 
not having yet stirred about for their morning meal. It is not 
often that one is enabled to approach a bevy like this, but for 


ffh 

m 





r / ikU* 


L 49 1 


effprtr/ -■ 







IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


once fortune was with me. I approached very carefully, and 
as they flushed I counted twelve birds, including the parents, 
whipbk of course, could not be distinguished. There were two 
ihissing, and I presumed those were young birds who had fallen 



victims~tp some swooping hawk or prowling fox. 

Next to man, the hawk and the fox, notwithstanding many 
ments made to the contrary, are the worst enemies of the 
Aqhail. So sudden is their attack, that the poor, frightened birds 
scarcely have a chance to escape. The laws of Ohio have pro¬ 
hibited quail shooting for two years, so at least my bird family 
,Isoimmune from fatalities on that score during the Winter. 
^In view bf the fact that the young birds were now full grown, 
I felt that there was a reasonable chance of the bevy getting 
gh the season unless the weather became too inclement, 
baler was coming on in leaps and bounds, and I resolved 





o 


* to befriepd my little proteges wherever I could. 

-1 - ^ . 


in^ber went by rapidly and January was ushered in, 
old andsfcVere. I awoke one morning to find it snowing, and r 




ipon looking out I saw that the ground was covered to a depth 
of nearly a foot. Immediately I thought of my poor Bobs ex- 

.A\'i "- posed to all the rigors of this wintry morning, and I decided to 

. . 

an 


i them if possible. So donning heavy clothing and substan^, 







IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 




I cut 




tial footwear, I started out with a big bag of cracked corn and 
wheat, another of marble dust, a water pan and a small axe. 
The marble dust or its equivalent is one of the essentials toward 
keeping birds alive in the winter, for unless they have some 
kind of grit, which aids in the digestion of their food,/'all the 
other provisions are of no avail. They cannot live without 
something of this nature. 

When I reached the coverts which the birds us 
down a sapling, selected two forked boughs for upri 
drove them into the ground, allowing about two feet ’ 

Upon each of these I placed a straight branch and thehQmt 

, . . . \(( 

branches and twigs crosswise on these, thus forming 1 

I 

shelter two feet high in front and sloping to the ground in the 

\\ 

rear. From the adjoining corn field I gathered fodder, which I 
placed on this retreat to make it impervious to snow 
ture, and then upon the top, more boughs were placed 
improvised lean-to an appearance that harmonized with the s 

roundings. When my work was done I was w r ell pleased 

.... 2 

result, for it formed a perfect shelter which would p 
any bird that might make use of it in the most 


\ 


scraped the snow away inside and scattered 

the sand and the pan 

d, 








y 


~v 


\S 


.LS OF BIRD LIFE ' V 


filled with water from the brook. The opening of this little 
shelter faced the south, so that the birds might be protected from 




y. the north wind. Before leaving the place I searched about the 
vicinity to see how the birds had weathered the storm. Under 


/ > y* lfl 

a low-hanging cedar on the edge of an adjoining piece of timber 

~ct, 

land, I found traces which indicated that my birds had found 


<)■: i\ 


a 


shelter from the severe northerly blasts. I did not see the Bob 
Whites this particular morning; they were probably out feed¬ 
ing as best they could among the snowdrifts. 

It was still snowing when I started for the city, about two 
miles distant. The immaculate white landscape and its beauti- 

1 /A. -S 

ful surroundings were formed into a blurry vision as the snow 

; y iTrx ' 

was blown about in a blinding disarray. Even at that I was 

■’ \ . 

not alone in my chilly walk to town. A tiny tufted titmouse 

and several chickadees that accompanied me part of the way 
kept cheering me on with their sweet twittering, hopping from 

i \y v* \ \ /> 

twig to twig a few feet above my head, maintaining their inces- 
sant chatter. It was bird cheer of the most entrancing variety 
for a day like this. A red flash flared ahead of me as a cardinal 
flitted from a snow-laden shelter in quest of food, but I doubt 
if he was successful. A rabbit started from his form in a patch 

52 J 


\i 









IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


of weeds as I tramped on. Within an hour’s time I was at home 
by a crackling fire, making notes of what I had seen that won- 
derful morning, for I hoped to use them at some future time. 


The next morning dawned clear, bright and very cold. I 
was at the bird shelter long before the thin crescent of a silvery 
moon had slipped from a western sky. I approached the place 
quietly, but a loud “Whirr-r-r-r!” proclaimed that the birds 
were on the alert. They had evidently found the place the day 
before, and that was all that was necessary. The food which 
had been placed there for them was all gone, so I quickly scat- 

/ \ X 

/ \ \ > // 

tered a new supply of cracked corn, wheat and other food, re- 

,~i-- ^.1 

plenishing the water by breaking the ice in the brook and filling 
the pan. I then concealed myself behind a clump of cedars to 


\ 


await developments. In a few minutes several chickadees, 

\ * jS 

probably my friends of yesterday, came down to breakfast. In 

. -Si 

about an hour, which was the coldest period I ever experienced, 
the whole bevy of quail, twelve in all, returned. While the 

v,/ j vj>i / 

birds were feeding, one of their number would act as guard to 
warn the others of any danger. They were all plump and beau¬ 
tifully mottled, their rich chestnut and grey markings contrast- 




Zl I w 


ing nicely against the white foreground of their surroundings. 

r 53 ] 






IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


I quietly withdrew without flushing them, happy that I was 
able to provide food and shelter for such beautiful birds, which 
are without a doubt the noblest of all game varieties. 

Every day or two throughout the long Winter months I fed 


the birds, and within several weeks’ time I had succeeded in 

—t 


w. 



greatly diminishing their fear of me; I could approach within 
tjjYfSet without disturbing them. The Bob White has refused 
to become domesticated, yet, a firm friendship may be estab¬ 
lished with him by adopting the methods I have related. 

Although that Winter lingered long and wearily, it was 
finally obliged to succumb to the pleasant sunshine and the 


south winds that came with the approach of mid-April. On a 


o 


bright afternoon of that month I had an opportunity to get away l!l 
from other labors, and I went out to find my bevy of Bob 

■ j ( - 

Whites. As I came in sight of the familiar fields of stubble and 




meadow, the clarion-like notes, “Bob White! ah, Bob White! 





welled from a half-score of throats, emanating from the woods V 




( • 




to the left, the wheat on the right, and the corn just beyond£T-._. 


The family had evidently separated, as is customary' when the 

-' t -r " . . 

mating season begins; no doubt some of the y r oung birds were «— 




thinking of going to housekeeping on their own responsibilit 




T T . [54] 




IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


Perhaps some of these were within a short distance of their 
winter’s headquarters, perhaps some had gone farther away. 
The old birds, however, remained practically in the same spot 
where they raised their brood the year before. 

/ —' 

I still watch over my proteges of last winter and so far 
they are faring nicely. If the young survive the winter, Fhope 
to be able to tell of their courtships and their loves, their joys 'y 
and their sorrows, in some future paper. 

“The song-birds leave us at the summer’s close, c 
Only the empty nests are left behind,— 


V 

\\ 


And pipings of the quail among the sheaves 


Ir 

Longfellow. 



Vvw-CN_ 


Ip P 


& 


iS % > * f 

D 

' t>e, 

b 

_ A 
ry* ^ 

/ °) \ 

1 ( 1 <D 


't? 


,/ 




^ ) 
c 



[ 55 ] 


A l J^ 













f r;4\ 

• *Wtt f/A 


i 


HOME BUILDING IN THE BOG 


"Where scarce the sunspears, quivering bright, 

May pierce the foliage with their light, 

Ah! there so shadowy sleeps the wood 
Where hermit woodcock seek their food.” 

McLellan. 

ATTRIBUTE to the kindness of a friend my first observa¬ 
tion of the breeding habits of a pair of woodcock. 


&>- 


X 

While out for a stroll one early Spring day last year 
he flushed a female woodcock from her nest. Immediately, 
upon his return home he reported his find, knowing that such a 
discovery would be of great interest to me. His description of 
the location of the nest tallies with the place where I had also 
found a Mallard duck’s nest the previous year. I knew this 

ground verv well, as I had spent some of the most delightful 

x , i , \ [f » \ 

days in the open with the birds of this locality. 

\ \ vv*T ~~ -v 

Next morning found me on my way to the nest before the 
break of day. A fine mist was falling, blown by a west wind 
which made walking anything but a pleasure, just one of the 
many inconveniences a bird lover has to contend with while in 
quest of his favorite hobby or study. 






IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


l 


The first gray streak of light in the east proclaimed the 
advent of day as I arrived at the location given me by my 
friend, a strip of woods which bordered a large field. 

As the light grew stronger I started my search for the 
nest. I had proceeded about a hundred feet, into the heart of 
the woods, when without warning, a loud whirr of wings startled 
me with its suddenness. I saw a brown streak go sailing be¬ 
tween the trees then disappear into the adjoining fields. Cau- 

( \ . 

tiously, I advanced to where I heard the bird rustle. Near an 
old rotten stump I found the nest, just as my kind friend had 

w*xJ1k> 


told me. 


V_J 


1« • 




On a few dry leaves which served as a nest I found three 

\ \ J w 

buffy eggs, spotted with reddish brown, the home of a pair of 

woodcock. As this species usually lays four eggs, I had reason 
\ 


J 


Sk 

to believe the set was not complete. Not caring to let the eggs 
chill, I left them, hoping the mother bird would return soon. 

I lingered about the spot for about twenty minutes and finally 
I had the satisfaction of seeing the faithful mother bird fly back 
to the nest. 

On my way home I had to pass through a swampy bit of 

j 7 _ Ayr / 

land, and in here I noticed many neatly bored holes, showing 


s% 

r O;V ' 

rgev 




[ 57 ] 






mil, 






IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


plainly the work of woodcock in search of angleworms, their 
staple food. I also flushed two birds in this swamp. 

About four days later I was at the woodcock’s home bright 



and early. The eggs were uncovered and I found four this time, 
^proving Jth'at the set had not been completed at the time of my 


first visit to the nest. The female bird was probably down at 




mp getting a breakfast of angleworms. I carefully hid 
^myself behind a thick clump of bare saplings about ten feet 
away and awaited her return. In about half an hour she came 
C .--sailing-,over the field and into the woods. Alighting near the 
ml&t she looked at the eggs, then, turning them over with her 


long bijlpquietly settled upon them, assuming her task of incu- 

bation. ~On the edge of the woods I flushed a male, probably 

IX'O : t 

the mate of the nesting bird. Thev are always to be seen near 

j * 

faithful brown-eyed little wives. 




■ ' 0 

This particular morning was a glorious one. The resurrec- 


l 




\ ( 


X tion of Spring was at hand. The trees were beginning to assume 
^ a greenishTint and early vernal flowers were nodding to th 


A* ‘'tP . . i.-- 

winds. The Spring migrants on their way north, paused inY=£ 


/c 




I /, 

their feeding among the trees long enough to render sweet ...v 









es of song, that always ihelp to gladden the hearts of all 


M I T » •• A 


,y 

JyA v 


r 




Q 




IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 




Knowing the woodcock to be nocturnal in its habits I de¬ 
cided to pay this pair a call at night. 

One evening about two weeks after my first visit with the 
woodcock I crept silently into the woods that sheltered their 
home, just as dusk was settling over the earth. The Voiqe of 
most of the feathered folk had already been stilled for the night, 
save one woodthrush, that had arrived a little earlier than 
usual from his Winter sojourn. He was gently tollingIthe pass¬ 
ing of another day, from somewhere in the woods. 

As I glided into my improvised blind, I noticed tl 
woodcock on the nest. Her brownish, mottled ba 
perfectly with her surroundings; a wonderful exam 

/ 1 

tective coloration, making it difficult, at first, for me to find her. 

While I lay crouched low behind my screen of tre;es I saw, 
heretofore unnnoticed, the male bird strut into a cleared space 
about ten feet square and about twenty feet from the nest. Then 
began one of the greatest aerial stunts I had ever witness 
VVhirling up in a spiral to about forty or fifty feet, <chirpi 
some unintelligible notes, he descended in slow circles, 


,D d £■ 


he finally reached the ground. Here he strutted about,' wi 


and tail erect, uttering excited picks 

silently watched his 


•aV- C-T ~ <3 


lIlWiv... 




D 






pe 










IYL.T.S OF BIRD LIFE 



formances.. Seven times I watched him perform his stunt. He 
t^^^peared close to his mate (he must have induced her to 
leave her nest for a bite to eat), and with a whirr of wings they 


)Oth flew through the woods, heading for the swamp. 



had by this time slipped his sable cloak upon the 


land, and with no moon to guide me I had no little trouble in 



malting my way out of the place. The weird calling of a whip- 

fs. 


poorwill accompanied me on my way through the woods, but 
the rest of the voices of the night were strangely silent this 
Spring evening. 

I repeated my nocturnal call to the woodcock the follow¬ 


ing evening and again I witnessed the wonderful gyrations of 
the male bird, only that this time he uttered a soft cheeping 


sound as he glided horizontally to the ground. As on the pre¬ 
vious evening the female bird sat quietly on her eggs and ap- 

> 

parently remained indifferent to the marvelous performance 

of her consort. The show was repeated only; four times on this 

\ / 

occasion, whereupon the male flew out of the woods toward 

/ 1 — 




the swamp unaccompanied by his mate. I do not know the 

j J / 

reason why she did not leave her eggs this night. I watched her 


until it grew too dark to make further observations, and 

mmtk kk 


I left her she was sitting on her eggs. 



















IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


On my next trip to the nest, early in the morning four days 
later, as I was approaching the nest I inadvertently stepped 
upon a twig, causing it to snap sharply. With a whirr of wings 
I noticed a woodcock fly from somewhere near the nest, but on 
reaching it I found the mother bird calmly at her duty. It was 
the male bird I had flushed by my clumsiness. 

Seeing that she was not so easily frightened, I casually/ 


\ 


& 


drew near the nest. I was within ten feet of her and she did not 

I fi/' 

stir. Cautiously advancing to within six feet of her I could 
clearly see her brown little body and bright brown eyes, as she 
boldly stood her ground. On advancing about two feet nearer, 

_ l ^-^ j j j\\, **\ jf y ( _ ? 

it was too much for even her steady nerves, and with a loud 

- \ j " 

whirr of wings she almost hit me in the face as she sped away 
through the woods. The eggs surely must have been.quickened, 
or she would not have held her ground as long as she did. I 
immediately left the woods, as her eggs might become chilled 




\\ 


if I kept her off of them too long. 

Two days later I was at the nest bright and early just as 
the rising sun lit up the surrounding woods. When I drew near 

the nest I failed to see the now familiar form of the mother bird 

A a f J 

upon it. Hastening forward I found it deserted, with four 

0 ——j 

nearly split eggs lying about, telling the story of the advent of 
i 

[ 61 ] 




a 


Hi:v-'WJi * 








Ml 


• u 7 


IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


four more woodcock into the world. I had never seen the young 
before, and I was anxious to get a look at these birds, if pos¬ 
sible. As they were able to get about without the assistance of 

' 1 

their nlother, I did not know where to look for them. They are, 

' ' r • 

however, under the care of their mother for about a month after 
their hatching, so I presumed if I could find her, I would see 
j.her young. I was disappointed, however, for I never saw the 
}#Qpm5r or her brood again during the season. 

A farmer living near the woods told me that he had seen a 
woodcock cross the road near the woods followed by four young 
birds, but it was more or less a conjecture that these birds might 

have belonged to the nest I had so diligently been watching for 

■ j i-*' ^ 


-J 


the past three weeks. Some day I hope to be able to see the 




o W young woodcocks. 

Owing to the wise game laws, the woodcock is slowly but 

f : * Ah f 

irelv coming into its own in southern Ohio, and I think it is 



4P 


but a matter of a few years until this bird will be as plentiful as 




00 


f0rmerl \«5 

S& ^1 


IP 






“These shy. secluded birds all day 
In cool, thick-shaded haunts delay; 
But when the woods at eve are dim 

To open feeding-grounds they skim 

A 

[ 62 1 


McLellan. 





THE DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF THE SORA RAILS 


“Since earliest spring-time they have sought 
The utmost northern isle and shoal; 
Their chosen haunt and breeding ground, 

In latitude beneath the Pole. 




Me Leila,A 


/ 


B EFORE commencing this story of the home of a pair"- 
of sora rails and their home life, I must admitkthat the 
finding of their nest was purely accidental. It Happened^ 
like this: // .. 

fA ' v 

. . . I y i 

One rare evening in early Spring, just as twilight was softl 

L (Vs 

stealing over the land, a friend and myself were canoeing down 


a large stream in western Ohio. We leisurely paddled along 

i feasting our eyes upon a wonderful scenerv aboylt us and 

I 

making mental notes of the early migrants as we chanced to see 





them. At a bend in the river I noticed a great blue fiejon fly 
over us, alighting along the shore in a patch of sedge and water ^ 
grass that lined the river at this point. We quickly paddled 
over to where we saw him land, in hopes of getting a better view 






r- 




of him. As we neared the spot, he flew with great wing beats 

* 

up the river*. 

[ 63 ] 


m I 










X 


V 


V 


OF BIRD LIFE ' V 



The momentum of the canoe carried us far into the reeds 
ft up to the shore. We sat there a few minutes to rest. 




Gazing about me among the tall dead grasses as high as our 



heads, I noticed a tussock that looked suspicious. Eagerly 
shovingNyith my paddle I pushed the canoe up to the spot and 


patting the grass, beheld nine eggs. It was now almost dark 


rX- > 


'\ and I was unable to distinguish their coloring, which next dav 
# proved to belong to a pair of sora rails. After marking the spot 
w r e paddled out to mid stream, and set our direction for home, 


elated w T ith the discovery; this being the first nest of sora rail 


I had ever found. 


Early next morning just as dawm began to glow in the east¬ 
ern sky, I anchored my canoe down the shore about a hundred 

v , 

feet from th^ nest, and quietly approached the home of the 

1 ;• \ \ 

sora rail. It was about five feet from the water’s edge and I 

'•*/$’ \ mI j / | "v. 

could easily observe it with the aid of my field glasses from that 

\ 

point of vantage. The high grasses/ 
excellent blind. 



me afforded an 


to. 


I could see the yellow-billed, browm-eyed little mother 


/ 



upon the nest as I gazed through the reeds. Her olive-brown 

ft._^ . A , /, / [ ‘j 

back, mingled with black and white spots and stripes showed 

plainly through the rushes. Just before the sun arose, she 

r aa i 

If* 


: I 

\\ 


■ mm * ^ * / ’ ' ; .. j. • 

. .: 

























IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


quietly slipped off the nest and flew with unsteady flight over 

the rushes to another part of the marsh. I quickly waded out 

/ ''v. 

to the nest, examined the eggs, for I had never seen the sora \ 


rail eggs up to this time. Their color was a dull buff, spotted 
with, dark brown, and lavender spots. They were beautiful to 

I * 

see, nine of them snugly packed down in a nest of grasses and 

sedge lined with a few fine grasses. In all, the nest was a very 

/ / tT 1 1 

carelessly constructed affair. The platform on which it was 

i V - ' 

1 \ y* ( Y ' t ! ^ ^ ^ ‘ ^ ^ I . 

raised consisted of a few reeds about which it was woven. I 
made my way back to the blind not a minute too soon, for I 
barely settled in my position when the mother bird returned 

C:—‘ _ _ i 

to her duty. She did not leave that nest again until evening* 


as I was faithfully 




watching her throughout that memorable 

-- J \ / fflWfaL 

s Yf Jfef 

- -- . - II L" •''■ l 


hot" day. 

For five successive days I made the seven-mile trip in my 

canoe to visit the nest of the rail. At no time after mv 

!. . . \ . 

visit did I find her off the nest. Faithful to., her trust she 
guarded the incubated eggs with unremitting assiduity. She 
certainly must have left the nest at some time or other during 




a 


the day but whenever I approached her she was always incu- 
bating, nor did I again get a look at her beautiful eggs. 

,j ‘ r* /; •. . . / % V* j ,/< 1 » 


'*c' 


P • * 65 i ' 






IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 



All the rails are known as nocturnal feeders, so I thought 
I would pay them a night visit and perhaps learn something 
-''of tJtjeir feeding habits. I chose a bright night with a full moon 
directly overhead in a starlit sky. The trip down the river was 


enchantiti^ this wondrous night. As I neared the nest of the 
rails I brought the canoe into the shore and landed. 


he surrounding country was lit up like day, which made 
^rrfy locating the nest less difficult. All through the marshy 
land I could hear a series of notes, “kek, k! k! kewee, peet! peet! 




U ^-^hfclfkept up all the time I was in the vicinity. I readily identi- 


•vvlth'them if one could judge from the calls that issued from the 



lied the notes as belonging to the rails. The place seemed alive 


marshv?o> 

: /o £ 

ith some difficulty I made out the nest of the sora, and 




Ftesurprised to see the female bird closely sitting her 
eggs^ Her voice was not joined in the rail chorus, which makes 
e male birds of the neighborhood produced the not 



■o ^ 


_ 

- unfrVusicah entertainment. 

I could hear slight splashes occasionally, but try as I would, 



,' i I could see no other birds about, and yet I knew the place was 
| full of them. The rails were able to flit about through a maize' 




stalks and reeds, owing toTheir compressed Todies, built to 

mWw/t.i / A/i l 









IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 






thread their way through the thickest tangles of cat tails and 
reed stalks, without making the slightest sound. 

After spending the better part of the night with the ma 
birds I left them, and returned home. I shall never fo 
ride. The moon had slipped down behind the trees on 
of the river and every now and then a silver beam shot across 
the stream as a rift in the dense foliage permitted it. Th e voices 

J/Il 

of the night were much in evidence. Across the riv&LXn the 
woods several screech owls were busy answering one 
while the frog chorus kept up unceasingly and the ni 
tried their best to entertain me through my seven 
back to town. 

Came a day about a week later, that I returned 
nest and found it empty. Very much disappointed at 
the mother and her brood I eagerly searched among the regds 


i. 


c 


for traces of them, but was completely baffled. The voung frf \ , 

1 ) ■ ' iS VT 

& 


the sora rail are precocious, and by this time they could 


i . . .. .0 

s from their former home. I hoped this was not the 
s I wanted to make a study of the young as they are 




nove 


d, especially to an observer who had nevef 


combing of the mafsh. 




L/ 


W*m 







xf 


S OF BIRD LIFE 




the nest, I gave up hopes of seeing this family of rail youngsters, 

and getting into mv canoe I started to paddle toward home, 

\\ . 


M 



rather dejected by my failure. 

1 On my homeward journey I kept my canoe close to the 

A y 

cnnrp nprr 


shore, perchance I might see another rail and her young, feeding 


among the reeds along the way. In this conjecture I was not 


wrong. I had paddled down the stream about a hundred yards 
m when I noticed a slight movement among some cat tails grow- 


f., 
n„ t 
fib 


ing about profusely at this point. I slipped quietly up to the 


place and peered about among the rushes but saw nothing. 



Thinking that I may have been mistaken, I started to leave the 
place when I saw a sora rail, a female followed by a brood of 
young, about ten feet ahead, in a tangle of reeds, cat tails, and 
arrow heads. I grasped my glasses, always handy for an emer¬ 
gency like this, and beheld nine downy little rails black as night 


in appearance, and with a soft tuft of whitish yellow on the / 
breast, and a bright red protuberance at the base of the uppei> 




mandible. They were a funny lot of youngsters to behold as 
they darted here and there after objects on the water. I could not 
make out what they were catching, but they must have been 



water insects or some vegetable material. The mother bird was 


11 


f 

s, 

IP 




\\\\ 1 


sailing about among her offspring pointing out as it were, the 

sjp&li i ■ 

-- 


L 

U/jjlrrW 4 


[ 68 ] 




H IM WiWWW ['M/'Mt mMLWI/wTl / -— ——- 

v A V\\V ’/A ■ ■ /nil' -Wlkvatfri/ 

tv 


T 
















IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


things they might eat. While I was watching their performance 
and without any sign of danger near, as far as I could see, the 
mother bird suddenly darted into the dark recesses among the 
reeds followed by her young. In a few seconds the entire brood 
had disappeared. 

I waited around that place for the best part of two hours, 

carefully concealed, but I saw no more of the sora and her 

young and to this day I do not know what caused her to give 

me the slip. \ 

\ . 

About a month later I passed by the locality where I saw 


mx 


my first sora rail nest, but the place sefemedv deserted. I imi- 
tated the call of the birds and in a few minutes the whole marsh 
was alive with the “kek, kek, ker-wee-peep” peep call of the 
sora rails. 


Thousands of these birds are slaughtered annually for 
their flesh, which at best is rather flavorless and really unfit for 
food. The game laws of Ohio, however, preclude spring shoot- 

>* . * J 

ing, which protects the bird during nesting season. 

X A ">? X i 

“In swamps impervious build their nest 
(So northern fishermen declare), 

Where none may reach them to molest. ” „ / 




■ - 




2S 


McLellan. 







BOB WHITES AT HOME 



“Shrill and clear from coppice near, 

A song within the woodland ringing. 

The treble note from a silver throat 
The siren of the fields is singing— 
Bob-bob-white! 

And from the height the answer sweet 
Floats faintly o’er the rippling wheat— 
Bob-white!” 

Marion Franklin Ham. 


(OR days prior to the nesting season, I had been hearing 
1 the nuptial call of a male Bob White. It seemed to 
emanate from a ragweed field inclosed by an old rail 
:e, which w r as fringed by oak, walnut and beech trees, with a 



mor6 or less heavy undergrowth of briers. 


One Summer afternoon in early June, after an all-day un- 

» - 

ressful search for the elusive nest of an oven bird, I was 


$ 


A 


coming through the ragweed field, along the fence, when $ 

v L •i'b' 1 f 



brovvii' flash and a whir of wings startled me from my reveries' 
Immediately all alert, I carefully searched among the weechr. 


and greenbriers at this point, and was finally rewarded by dis-A? " 

< w , . { 

fil. V. 


ft 



fing a simple nest lined with grasses and leaves, at the iti- 


(jij/f 1/ . Ji, ..-4 ' V iiC ‘ I 

tei;section of the old decayed rails. The nest contained sixteen 




IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


h 


beautiful pure white eggs; the largest number of eggs of a Bob 
White I have ever found. The greatest number I had discov¬ 
ered up to this time was a nest of fifteen, found several years 
before. Carefully noting the place and position of the nest, so 

\\ 

as to be able to easily find it again, I left the vicinity. As I pro- 

/ 

ceeded through the field I noted the return of the hen bird, as 
she flew through the woods adjoining the field. 

I again visited Mrs. Bob White several days later and 
found her sitting on her eggs, seemingly not aware that her a^hv^^^ 
enemy, man, was studying her from a vantage point behind^ 
some blackberry bushes on the other side of the fence. A$ I 

vfr I'M 

was watching her, the cock Bob White flew to the top rail, about 
thirty feet away and uttered the rally call, “coi hee!” so delight- 
ful to the hunter’s ears. The hen bird moved nervously and 


<_ 




shifting her plump little body, answered him with one single c ' 


note, a clear whistle; probably used by the female in answering 

]) ^ 




c., -> /Aa.O -<b 

her mate, but the only time I have ever heard it. I do hot think 

\ ip <r - 

\ . . \ <7 l> " ' ' ' ^ b \ 

this note is characteristic of the hen bird. An indiscreet move- 


-— # Cj • - 

ment on my part, sent the mother bird, as well as her mate, off 
like a pair of rockets. Satisfied with my observations for the 


o 

-A 


O P 


day I left the field to the Bob White and his family-to-be. 


r 71 ] 

a, 1 t 


pA 

yf ) <f , /0 b 

( prjm 








M, 



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V 


IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 




way through the woods, I paused a little to listen 


to the outburst of song issuing from the throat of a w’ood thrush 
or bell bird. This bird is considered one of the sweetest song- 


sters o»f America. Its only rival in this respect is its cousin, 


V ^ 


■sa=- 


the Hermit Thrush, only known to us during its migration 


periods in the early Spring and late Autumn. The liquid notes 




of this particular wood thrush sounded clear and beautiful as 


they floated through the soft Summer twilight. 

'/Jy 

I was loathe to leave this wonderful performance, but I 


\ 



noted the sun was fast sinking in a flood of crimson glory and I 
wished to get to the city before dark. I reluctantly left the 


V / \ 

woods, hoping to hear that wonderful song repeated at some 
later day. 

/<• \ \ 
i f \ \ 

The next time I visited the nest, or just fourteen days from 


the date of discover}’, the eggs were uncovered, probably while 




the female was making her daily toilet, or taking a dust bath 

\ 

in some nearby road. The clear staccato Bob White call of 

\ V i I Hi- v> j .- n V l 




the male bird, came floating to me from down the field, showing 

]>/f ^ / 

that the eggs were only deserted temporarily; for, since the 


Mm 

m 






male bird was so near, his mate could not be far away. Just 

\ \W 7 " i ? \ 

as I turned to leave, I saw her coming through the air from 







[ 72 ] 




mm 










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Lb&fc'M,, jy A," 


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l/lllllf ]/ /l 

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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


\ 


across the field, returning to her duty. Ten more days, and 

/- 

she would be the proud mother of sixteen little downy chicks, 
as it generally takes twenty-four days to incubate the eggs, 

I was again treated to the wood thrush fecital on this oc- 
casion, but I continued on through the ](voods, as I had another 

nest to visit on this particular day and I wished to make obser- 

I 

rations before it grew too dark. 

On my next visit to the Bob W hite nest, neither parent 
bird being near, I made a close-up study of the eggs, however, 
not touching them, for if they are handled the nest will be de- 
serted at once. The eggs were very skillfully packed in, the 
pointed ends down, so as to save space and permit the hen bird 
to cover all the eggs, during the period of incubation. On this 
particular morning the sun was just creeping over the crest of a 



hill half 


\ 


a mile away, and flooding the fields with its beautiful 



golden rays. It was a sight for the gods to behold, and the soft 

\ 4 ' |■ '‘if 

summer air filled with the fragrance of unseen censors swung 

by the hand of Nature, fanned my cheeks. Somewhere in the 

*X ) ^ Vi / \(r 

woods a song sparrow, one of the very early risers, stirred about 

uneasily and finally burst into a rich riot of melody. Presently 

/ * j 

the other denizens of the woods began to stir about and in a 







short time the air, this amphitheatre of the open, was filled with 




s ' ■'•‘svv.r iSii'" ' • 


[ 73 ] 


m, 








IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


the morning songs of hundreds of feathered creatures. Several 
rabbits were gamboling among the ragweed patches and squir¬ 
rels barked from the branches of towering oaks. By the time 
the sun had climbed above the hill, and its rich, warm rays pro- 



_^ \ 

claimed-^other June day of unmatched splendor, I had to 
leave this place and hurry to my toil in the city. How I envy 




tBlKcbuntry-bred boy, brought up among these beautiful sur¬ 
roundings, scarcely appreciating the wonders spread out all 
about him. His, is the chance of studying Nature in her every 
:>od and whim. 

0 A few weeks later I passed through the woods and was in 


ijtHh act of climbing an old rail fence when a shrill “wee-tee!” 

\ 0° 

greeted my ears from the vicinitv of the nest. I knew from this 


£ 


caJJ that the eggs had hatched, for this was the mother’s note 
of warning to her young. 

•PjiS 'r? 


Carefully crossing the fence, I screened behind some tall 



- 1 weeds and awaited developments. In about ten minutes I saw 

9.-“ the female^ Bob White come strutting along in and out amon[ 

d .... ^ 

he weeds, followed by sixteen little chicks, in appearance not'c^ 

1 ^ 

mHke a brood of young chickens. They had dark bro\yi 

i/4 / Jz) 

mW Ly 




freaked heads, the bodies being a lighter brown. One little 

. 7 / 1 / j’y 

3W still had half his shell ^attached to hisTack.-but while I 



IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


was watching him this dropped off. In a short while Mr. Bob 
White joined his family and he and his mate proceeded to teach 
the young birds what they might eat. The young of the Bob 
White are precocious and proceed to feed themselves immedi¬ 
ately after they are born. 

/ 

As I was watching from my cramped position, a shrill note 
of warning issued from the throat of the mother bird, and in a ^ 
few seconds all the chicks, I can’t understand to this 
thev did it, were safely tucked under their mother’s win 

•< 7 - 


how 




teen of them securely hidden away from danger, which this time /-S" 
proved to be a Cooper’s hawk intent on his morning’s brea 

fast. But he was not to feed on this brood of chicks, thanks 

// 

I 4 

their mother’s watchfulness. After the danger had passed, the 
fledglings emerged from under their protection of wings and 
proceeded with their lessons on what not to eat. Half flying, 
half running about, they gathered weeds of various kinds and 

s 

some berries that I could not identify, although they must have V'yy ; 

i h T j'b <3 <4- 

been from the last year’s growth. With the aid of my field 

glasses I saw them take insects from the ground and under- 

\) m ^6 To) i 

growth about them. The birds seemed to have forgotten aboijt 

their recent home, and they did not visit it during that day. '; ^ ; 

"\ " T\ 









M x , ^ 

IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE ■ 

\ v J 





into a stubble patch and later into a deep woods, a half mile 

v / 4C 

from their former home. Indications showed that they had 


not used the nest after being hatched. I had never observed 


\\ 


It 


this strange habit of desertion up to this time, although it 


actually happens according to the eminent ornithologists. 

I * 

V. .1 lost sight of the bevy while in the woods, owing to the 



<u 


thick impenetrable undergrowth of wild rose, sweet brier and 


numerous other growths. The work of this day, tramping 


through thorny bushes, crouching behind weeds hours at a time, 


a prey to all mosquitoes and other insects of the neighborhood, 
with a scorching sun beating down upon one from a cloudless 



sky, brought its reward. But this could hardly be called pleas¬ 
ure, for all was just a small part of a wonderful study, and the 


compensation is more than ample to one who loves Nature. 

On my next call to this Bob White family 1 spent a half 
day in locating them, but I finally found the brood along a nar¬ 
row stream about a mile from their former location. The young 
birds were about two-thirds grown by this time and were all 


/ 


/ 


/ 


well feathered. I did not see Mrs. Bob White and I presume 
she was busy incubating her second set of eggs, which in this 


locality is not an unusual occurrence. Upon my approach Mr 


Bob White uttered a low warning whistle and instantly th 

•jf i! !\a' i W/1fit hi. \ .Mk 


/(i t _ 
























IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 




young birds were scattering everywhere and in ten seconds not 

one w T as to be seen. The parent bird flattened himself to earth 

and I could not see him. It was onlv afterward that he became 

* 

visible. Almost tramping on him he flew to the farther bank 
of the narrow stream. 

I did not see my new acquaintance any more, as this was 

^ / 

my last visit to them; although I probably ran across them later 

A',:'. ' • 


\ 


\ 





on in the Fall, while observing the migrations of certain birds 

A"./- 

to southern climes, because I flushed two large bevies,- one of 

^.TO | J \ 

which located in this neighborhood. All the birds were large 


MM* 






and fully developed individuals. Owing to legislation recently 
passed by the state of Ohio the Bob White is now placed on the 
song bird list, but it is a question if the birds will really be 


benefited by this act. 





“For now the bevies are abroad, 

To seek in stubble-fields their feed, 
Or where the bushy covert drops 
Its juicy wreath, its ripen’d seed.” 




i Mm 


m 




, 


y 




McLellan. 



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& 


[ 77 ] 





THE MALLARD’S RENDEZVOUS 



‘The gray duck and the dipper come, 
The brant-geese from the ocean-foam, 
The brilliant mallard, and the teal 
With eye of light and wing of steel, 
All gather in the Autumn day 
To haunt the waters of the bay.” 


McLellan. 


was a bright morning in early Spring, last year, that I had 
the very good fortune to locate a Mallard duck’s nest. I 
say good fortune, for here in southern Ohio, the finding 


of a Mallard’s nest is a lucky discovery’. 

^ \ L 


While tramping through a weed field on this particular 
morningy I noticed a suspicious-looking tussock of grass, with 
an opening in one side. Being always on the lookout for some- 


£ 





i.^ A a! 


thing new in the realm of birdland, I examined this tuft and to 


\r^ 


-rs. 


fa 


■TO 


my surprise and delight, I found seven greenish-gray eggs o 


V 


the Mallard duck. Thev were neatly covered over with dowi 
plucked from the breast of the female so that they might retairCA- 



their heat, while she, in all probability, was taking her break- 'AT 

-' > 

fast ,&nd a swim at a stream that flowed some hundred yards 

i j V. ^ 




from the field wherein the nest was found. 


•■is* 



[ 78 ] 


>Ofl 'Ilk I 






IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


) 


I quietly left the nest after making a mental note of its 
surroundings. Here was my opportunity for a close study of 
the home life of a pair of Mallard ducks. 

I walked down to the stream hoping to see the ducks^but 
in this I was disappointed. A lone heron was flopping down 
stream as I approached, but the ducks were not to be seen this 
morning. 

\ 

I returned to the nest, as this was my chance t/O examine 
it carefully. A Mallard duck seldom leaves her nest, once the_ 
eggs are laid, and as she was gone for a few minutes myr oppor¬ 
tunity presented itself. The nest was composed of fine drie 
reeds, grasses and leaves, snugly set in a tussock of high gfi 
that formed an arch over it, protecting the eggs from the sun 
and duck enemies. I dared not touch the eggs for fear of driving 
away the parent birds, so I was content with noting their size 
color and number, whereupon I left the field, elated with 


my find. 



• . , 


About three days later I found an opportunity to visit the 1. 




Mallard home. As there was no screen of leaves or high bushes 

r; \ l> 0 

near the nest, I spent over half an hour reaching it. Crawling 

c y'° ) r’ \ /vT P ^ 

on mv hands and knees, a foot at a time, I finally reached the 

J r, v. a 


t>o. 




C/ p 




vicinity of the nest. The Mallard, though very inquisitive, is 

\t> 6 pvfrl < 


[ 79 ] 


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A')- 







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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 






one of the''wariest of our ducks: mv reason in this matter for 

V jf 

using extreme caution. I slowly peered over the top of a patch 
of weeds six feet from the nest, and saw a demure little duck, 
unattractive in her dark brown and buff feathers, her beady 
little eyes steadily gazing about her, ready to flee at the first 

I ™ 

sign of danger. The drake Mallard was nowhere to be seen, nor 
did F see him during the interesting time I spent with his mate. 

Early in June he undergoes an extra molt, at which period, 
according to ornithologists, he is unable to aid his mate in her 
duties, however willing he might be. It is a curious fact that 
as soon as his mate completes her set of eggs he is off to parts 
unknown, nor does he again put in an appearance until the Fall 
flight. The female bears the burden of raising the brood alone. 

About a weel^jater I paid another visit to the Mallard nest. 
Day was just breaking as I reached the river a short distance 
from my objective. I quietly approached the nest, but could 

m w i y 

scarcely locate the spot. Owing to the darkness, I was forced 

\ Tv /. . . Ay 

to await the coming of daylight. 

In a short time I was able to make out the form of the 




brooding mother as she quietly sat upon her eggs. 

.. i ■'—---. \ f \ jji ! ^ / 1 

The sun had now risen, causing the weed patch and grasses 

\ \\V 1‘jk ji I / j y/ j / :J\ 

to glisten with dew. The morning was unusually quiet and the 

[ 80 ] 






IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


\ 


squawk of a heron as he flew over the river could be plainly 
heard. Nearby, on a low bush, a field sparrow greeted the new 
day with his simple little song. The “top, top, top,” of a wood¬ 
pecker could plainly be heard somewhere. It was good to be 

/ 

out this wonderful morning, alone with God’s creatures. 

I patiently watched and waited for some action on the part 

of the Mallard. In a short time she began to show signs of life, 

y.\- ' \ 

raised her head and peered about to make sure that the coast 
was clear. Having satisfied herself in this matter she gently 
arose to a standing position and flapped her wings as if stretch- 
ing. She next covered her eggs with the down that was scat¬ 


tered about. Whereupon, she sedately waddled off toward the 

\ 

\ 

river, to get her breakfast and make her toilet. I quickly 


changed my uncomfortable position for a more restful one, and 

V 1 / N 


awaited her return. In about eight minutes she was back to her 

\ \ . . 'T&Jr _ l 

nest, and after turning the eggs with the aid of her bill, she 

\ Syrr \\ 

quietly settled upon them, and I am certain she did not leave 




1 


them until the next morning. 

The Mallard duck seldom leaves the nest after the eggs are 
laid, and I know in this case the brooding bird seldom left them. 
I did not try to flush her, being afraid she might desert her duty. 







IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 



After several hours of observation I left the nest and followed 
the river homeward-bound. Bird life is very plentiful in this 
-- locality. I counted thirty-one species of birds in the four-mile 
walk along the river. Some of them, however, are migrants that 
us on their long trips to their northern homes. 

For my next visit with this duck family I chose a dull- 
iloudy day with a promise of rain. The weather kept its prom- 
• : rsei, and when I reached the nest about midday, it was raining 
hard, with a chill wind blowing from the north. I approached 



C the, ne|t with less caution than was my wont in the wet woods, 


‘ .asCthe weeds in this case would not betray my approach by 



crackling underfoot. The faithful mother was on her nest, 
facing south, with the wind at her back. The tussock of grass 

1 a 


formed only a slight protection from the rain, which constantly 



the brooding bird, but she seemed wholly indifferent 


to the wet'surroundings. 

being a duck, I hurriedly departed this day, as I had 



face a chill wind and rain on a four-mile hike back to town 


tk 


y 




lo bird life was to be seen. The heavy downpour evidently 



d 


dampened the spirits of the birds. 

*1 arrived home soaking wet, but after putting on a chan: e 

.. ,,, 



of clothing I felt none the worse for mv damp experience. 

y.. _ ' 4 ) 






IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


The last visit to the nest was just twenty-three days from 
the time of its actual discovery. As I approached the spot I 
did not see the familiar form of the duck. Cautiously drawing 
near I found the nest deserted and six of the eggs gone. A jf£w 
scattered egg-shells lying near it, showed that they must have 
hatched; all but the one egg which, upon examination, I found 


\ 

/ ! 


to be not fertile. 1 hurried to the river in hopes of seeing the 






Adallard and her brood. On parting the heavy gr^t\yth of 
bushes so as to get a view, I espied, to my delight, the mother 


Ts- 


and her brood peacefully swimming about upon the sjkoojh i : . 




waters of the stream. Keeping carefully screened I 
the antics of the young for some time as they half paddled, h 
ran, in the water at calls from their mother. Now and then 
she would tip for a luscious pondweed or some other water- 
growth especially to her liking. 


VC 



As it generally takes twenty-eight to twenty-nine days for 


c? -y. 



incubation of Mallard eggs, this set was probably about five/ 
days old when found. 


<;; » 
: P 


& - 

p <3 4 

sn > 

The young, when hatched, are unable to walk well at first, 
so the mother bird carries the entire brood, one at a time, to 


the river. - Unfortunately, I was unable to witness this test of 

'\ . / <y \ ^ 

tion. In about six weeks the young are able to V, _ ^ 


parental 





'VI, 





0 /' VAO 








m 


y 


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v 


IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE V 


fly, at which time the real trials of the mother begin, for then 

v j y /• / ’ ^ * 

the young ducks are the especial prey of the duck hawk, the 


\ 


habitual enemy of the duck tribe and other smaller birds. 




© 




‘In shallows at the channel-edge, 

The wild ducks come from North and East 
Innumerous gather to the feast. 

Oh! far and fast their flight hath been, 

From distant stream and marshes green, 

Where since the springtime’s earliest days 
They’ve linger’d, their young broods to raise. 

And now the gusty north winds pour 
Their winnowing pinions to our shore. 

McLellan. 





\ A \ \ \ \ jrM /7 i%t i h 

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ji-uSi/MUMi* /**■ 
















SUMMERTIME 


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SUMMERTIME 




The sun has drunk 

The dew that lay upon the morning grass; 
There is no rustling in the lofty elm 
That canopies my dwelling, and its shade 
Scarce cools me. All is silent save the faint 
And interrupted murmur of the bee, 

Settling on the sick flowers, and then again 
Instantly on the wing. 


Brya 





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RAMBLES OF A BIRD LOVER 

“How plain and height 
With dewdrops are bright! 

How pearls have crowned 
The plants all around! 

How sighs the breeze 
Through thicket and trees ! ‘ 

How loudly in the sun’s clear rays 

The sweet birds carol forth their lays!” 

/ / 

Goethe 


N 



OT far from the confines of Dayton, Ohio, about 

a twenty-minute ride from the town, is one of 

( . V \ jtyiu tI‘ /7 

the most natural bird regions of the country. The 

, . 




\ 


place is an ideal one for the birds. The northern bound¬ 
ary of this spot is formed by a series of small hills thickly 
wooded and covered by a very heavy undergrowth. To the 
south and east run rolling meadows and cornfields, while the 
west side is bordered by a river, the haunt of many shore and 
wading birds. 



One bright, balmy morning in early June, I betook myself 
to this ornithologist’s paradise. As I entered the glen, as it 
can be called, a rich chorus of bird music filled the air. Through 
the almost undistinguishable medley I made out the notes of the 

[ 89 1 


0 ^ 










IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


cardinal, robin, house wren, crested flycatcher, blue jay, flicker, 
and red-headed woodpecker, the harsh “chack-chack” of the 
purple.'grackle and numerous other notes unrecorded. 


As I walked through the woods, I noticed a house wren 
lollow limb of a giant sycamore nearby. I quietly 



1/ 






investigated, and found that a pair of these tiny birds were busy 
jig a nest in the dead limb. I marked the place for a 
"future visit when the young would be hatched. A pair of robins 
vere busily engaged in building a nest in a black locust tree 
sycamore, preparatory to raising a brood. Not ten 
fed! from the locust and in a clump of bushes I found a brown 


w\, 


tfifasher’s nest containing four bluish eggs, spotted with numer- 

o ° 


ous fine dots of reddish brown. Neither parent bird was in the 


vicinity, but while I was examining the eggs both birds arrived, 

JZJ .. * 


so I quickly left the neighborhood of their home, not caring to 

w.r u ° o 

disturb them during the nesting season. 




c 


k 


I walked on slowly, watching every tree and shrub for 


^ v .- 

signs'of bird life. About a hundred feet up in a sycamore, a'v^r- 

/ emale flicker was hard at work chiseling out a home, while a 

I w 7T 

I'ed-headed woodpecker, a little higher in the same tree, was.g 

busily engaged in feeding a hungry nest full of young, as I could 

^ 



" V .y, 

their boisterous climorings. I discovered anot 




IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


flicker’s nest in a small elm. The opening to the nest was not 
twenty feet from the ground, and as I passed under the tree the 
female flew out. By some hard climbing, which was all th£_~_ 
more difficult because I had not brought my climbing irons, I 

reached the nest. It contained six beautiful pure white eggs 

f y‘- v ~ i 

laid upon sawdust chipped from a tree by the bird itself. 

\ ^ 

Making a note of the place I proceeded through the woods. 


I 


i 

/ L 


"A 


One certainly could call this place a bird paradise a ake 





no mistake. I had hardly been there an hour when I had v : 


already discovered a dozen nests, and seen numerous birds froth 


each family, with great 
for me. 


i 


surprises and wonder still (in store 

i Ay 


By this time I was getting close to the river. I lizard the 
harsh rattle of a king-fisher as he sped across the rive^ becom¬ 


ing alarmed, I suppose, at my approach. Just above me in a 
’ black walnut a cardinal was sounding his “cheo! cheoi cheo!” 

u . [ c ^ 

squnding out his happiness to his brooding mate somewhere in 

. 0 LV v ^ 

a nearby tangle of grape-vine. Although I flushed the female, 


.- 4 -P 
pel fir 


CSV) Cv 



I failed, after a diligent search, to find the nest. I had, now 
reached the river, and as I stood gazing at the rippling waters 
reflecting the early morning sunlight, a great blue heron flew l 

'1 / A ‘Sfi&rfr. S'Tc. 25777 Tt- — .jfrt t-A A ll 

if° 


G> f, 







/ s 

' 

IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 




V//,! 


/ 


/ 


V. 




V\ 

A 

dV 


N Ts ' 


up the river with a steady dip of broad wings. An object I had 
noticed while gazing at the river was now opposite me in the 
middle of the stream. With the aid of my field glasses I made 
out an American scaup duck, a bird seldom seen in this part of 
the country. Later on I was told by an authoritative party, 
that he had found a scaup’s nest in this locality, which, if true, 
is indeed a record, as they are seldom found breeding below the 
northern tier of states. This find, indeed, is worthy of record. 

Walking back from the river again, I was soon in the very 
thickest part of these delightful woods. The growth in this 
part is so dense that the sunlight fails to pierce the thick foliage. 
A clear, plaintive note, “pee-a-wee” greeted my ears from the 
depth of this shady nook. Again came that clear note, “pee- 
a-wee,” which I consider one of the sweetest notes in all bird- 
dom. There is something so pure and sincere about this not 
unmusical call that issues from the throat of one of our smallest 
flycatchers that I cannot help commenting upon it. Finally, 
after diligently searching the shadows, I found the source of 
this particular call, a wood pewee, a quite unassuming gray- 
coated little fellow, perched on a branch of a tall oak about 
twenty feet from the ground. Careful searching, however, 
failed to reveal his mate or a nest. 

[ 92 ] 

14 


V, 


U /( 


•vii f) m 

Wmm 

! ■ ! ■¥/ 












IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


I have almost neglected to mention one of the main features 
of this particular morning. In all my bird walks I had never 
been fortunate enough to discover an indigo bunting’s nest. I 
have seen hundreds of these beautiful birds, and listened to 
their rather tiresome songs on many a hot August afternoon, 
when the rest of our songsters were silent and seeking the cool 
shade of the woods. But this wonderful June morning must 
have been my lucky one, for I almost stumbled on one of the 
neatest nests I have ever found. As I passed by some shrubs, a 
sparrow-like little bird flushed from the midst of them. Such 
action on the part of a bird aroused my suspicion, which was 
verified by the finding of the nest. It contained four pale bluish 
eggs. The nest itself was a cup of grasses, lined with horse hair 
and fine rootlets. I was not certain of the identity of the owner 
of this neat little home until I saw the male indigo bunting in 
company with the bird that had flown the nest, just above me 
in a small elm, anxiously watching my every move. Not wish¬ 
ing to unnecessarily keep the mother bird from her eggs, I 
marked the place and withdrew, hoping to be able to peep into 
the domestic affairs of a pair of indigo buntings a week or so 
later. 


[ 93 ] 


IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


/ 


/ 


The sun was now sinking low in the western sky, casting 
golden rays upon the tallest of the forest trees. The evening 
“prayer” of a wood thrush as he gently thanked for the gifts 
of another parting day, was the last song I heard as I left 
the wood. 




'\ 


‘From all the misty morning air, there comes a Summer sound, 
murmur as of waters from skies, and trees, and ground. 


'■/'y^^he birds they sing upon the wing, the pigeons bill and coo. 



D o & 

\\ Voo, 

Wo 1 y 



til 




- 


■ ,/ 

j-i v 


R. W. Gilder. 





1 








THE ROBIN’S MENU 


‘Now when the primrose makes a splendid show. 
And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, 
And humbler growths as moved with one desire 
Put on, to welcome Spring, their best attire, 
Poor Robin is vet flowerless; but how gay 


With his red stalks upon this sunny day 



Wordsworth. 


T he most abundant, and probably the most universally 

cherished of all our American birds is the robiiy Purely 

/ /* 

a domestic and fearless bird, the robin rears its yoiing in 
perfect safety, close to the abode of man, sometimes selecting; 
for its home a projecting ledge above a door. The birdV^on- 
fidence is seldom misplaced, which tends to make it all the 
more trustful. Of late years the robin has increased in such 





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large numbers that its natural food is not ample enough to care 

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for the increasing demand. The apprehension is felt that it 


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may become dangerous to our food-producing crops. A few 

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facts regarding the diet of the robin, based upon th$ most rigid 


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investigation, will not be amiss at this season. 

C ° ; ■ 

In addition to its most pleasant neighborliness and com- 




panionship, the robin performs a most beneficial work for the 


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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


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farms by preying upon the insects that feed in vast numbers 
upon the crops. The young of the robin are fed almost entirely 
upon insects. It is well known that birds are an important 
factor in keeping in check myriads of insects. Therefore, to 
destroy a robin or any other kind of bird, means to invite 
destruction by the insects. Even if a few cherries are eaten by 
the robin, should it not receive compensation for its warfare 
upon the insect pests? 

About fifty-seven per cent of the robin’s diet consists of 
vegetable matter, and four-fifths of this includes wild fruit. In 
places where, due to cultivation and improvements, the wild 
fruits are destroyed, the robin has to adapt itself to the fruit 
and other food most easily obtained in that locality. This 


usually consists of the cultivated varieties, consequently devas¬ 
tation of the farmer’s crops result. Such cases, however, are not 
numerous. 

! 

The most common complaint against the robin is that it 




\i 




destroys cherries. The birds never take all the fruit, but usually 
divide with the family, in cases where just a few r trees are reared 
for home use. The robin also damages strawberries, blackber¬ 
ries, and raspberries, and even the larger fruits, such as prunes, 
peaches, pears and grapes. Its principal vegetable diet, how- 

[ 96 ] 



IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


ever, consists of wild fruit, of which about sixty-five varieties 

''v 

are eaten, whereas only about ten of the cultivated ones are 
consumed. The robin rarely eats grain, which indicates that 
the cereal is not greatly relished as a means of subsistence. 

Over forty per cent of the robin’s diet consists of insects. 
Sharing with the bluebird the distinction of being our earliest 
migrant, the robin naturally preys upon the insects that first 
come out of their Winter quarters. A few of the useful preda¬ 
ceous beetles, which are among the first insects to appear in 
the Spring, form a part of the robin’s diet in March and April. 
During the month of May, wherein they are most abundant, 
the May beetles offer a delicious morsel. Larvae of the fireflies, 
which live in the ground, are also eaten. Several species of the 
weevil, including two clover weevils, the corn weevil and a num¬ 


ber of others are eaten during the early months. Bees and 
wasps are usually avoided by this bird. In April and May, 
bugs are consumed. The injurious cinch bug is the most inter¬ 
esting member of this genus, which the robin disposes of with 
relish. The larvae of the March flies, which prey upon the roots 
of grasses, are also indulged in to a great extent. In one in¬ 
stance a thousand and forty larvae were found in one bird’s 
stomach. The caterpillar forms a regular diet of the robin. 




IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


The greatest consumption takes place in May, when it amounts 
to nearly twenty-four per cent of the food. Grasshoppers are 
„ always acceptable as food, but only during the short time that 
they are most abundant. Certain spiders, snails, angle worms, 
and sOwJjugs are eaten, but they form only a small per cent of 



the diet. 

the matter of the robin’s food it can be seen that, while 
ul beetles are eaten in the early Spring, it is not in 
uction that the bird does harm. A bird whose nat- 
/ of fruit is cut off, usually becomes a pest by preying 



Dm-the cultivated varieties, when obtainable. In some localities 
the conditions are: too many birds of one species and too little 


of the" natural food supply. Under such circumstances a law 
the grower to protect his crop would not be out of 


?re the robin visits, he should at least be tolerated 

> 


ring of his food. The bird’s wants do not make of 



'■C him an enemy, whom we should seek to starve by cutting off 


*=’^^|is food supply. 



“The sobered robin, hunger-silent now, 

Seeks cedar-berries blue, his Autumn cheer.” 


Lozvell. 






THE ROBIN AS AN INSECT DESTROYER 


“Each morning, when my waking eyes first see, 

Through the wreathed lattice, golden day appear, 

There sits a robin on an old elm-tree, 

And with such stirring music fills my ear, 

I might forget that life had pain or fear, 

And feel again as I was wont to do, 

When hope was young, and life itself were new.” 

Anna Maria lKeih. _ 




T 


00 much cannot be done by the bird lover to encourage 


the robin about his premises. It is a known fact that 
the robin is one of our most persistent birds in keepi 
back the insect life that thrives on our trees and in our gardens. 


One of our most abundant and yet most useful bird neigh¬ 



bors is the robin. To encourage this pert, democratic bird about 
our premises, means ample protection against the insects and 


injurious beetles that infest all gardens and trees. 




^accused iustly of stealing cherries, the robin more than pays. 

VV ‘ 


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£> £> 


for this depredation by his persistent efforts in ridding our 

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premises of the larvae of insects. His good qualities more than 

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compensate us for the loss of a few cherries. 


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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 



To destroy the robin means to invite destruction by the 

. -V. /f 

insects. 




“Whither away, Robin, 

Whither away? 

Is it through envy of the maple leaf, 

Whose blushes mock the crimson of thy breast, 

Thou wilt not stay? 

The summer days now long, yet all too brief 
The happy season thou hast been our guest: 

Whither away ?” 

E. C. Stedman. 


















THE BLUEBIRD’S REPAST 


“Thou first sky-dipped spring-bud of song, 

Whose heavenly ecstasy 

Foretells the May, while yet March winds are strong, 
Fresh faith appears with thee!” 

Maurice Thompson. 




O FTEN before King Winter has lifted his icy breath from 
our northern fields and streams, the bluebird, with his 
sweet song, “trualy, trualy,” is proclaiming that Spring 
is at hand, and rarely is he mistaken in his prophecy. 

A very domestic bird is this hardy little creature. He ap- 
propriates for his nest, old stumps, deserted woodpecker holes, 
or boxes that are placed for his use.v He rears his young, of 
which there are often three or four broods, about houses and 
orchards, and is not at all interested in their safety as far as 
man is concerned. 

Not only for his sweet song and happy nature is the blue¬ 
bird cherished by all mankind, but he is one of the chief allies 
of man in his warfare upon destructive insects. During the 
Spring, Summer and early Fall,the bluebird lives almost entirely 
upon insects. A single pair of these birds on one farm will do 

[ 101 ] 




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A 


IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


more good in ridding the place of insects than any artificial 
means known. The entire diet of the bluebird consists of 
sixty-eight per cent animal and thirty-eight per cent vegetable 
food. 


The only charge against the bluebird is, that during the 




/, 


early Spring, he destroys great numbers of predaceous beetles. 


FewTirds exceed the bluebirds in the destruction of these in- 


sectST The largest consumption of these beetles occurs in May 

i — x 

and the least in September. 



oy° / >> 


Beetles of the May-beetle family are eaten extensively 


during the month of May. They are eaten in nearly every 


month, but the largest consumption occurs during the three 

Vo . 

months from May to July. They consist mostly of the small 

N °u 

dung beetles, a few snout beetles and a few of the less harmful 
nature. 



A larger per cent of ants are devoured by the bluebird than 
§rt by the robin. Practically no bees or wasps are on his menu, 
though flies enter lightly into his diet. A moderate per cent of 





bugs are also eaten by the bluebird each month. 




( a? 


Caterpillars form a regular article of food for the bluebird. 
They furnish the greatest food supply in March and the least in 

J'i \ ' - • ' * , M . ’ l 

December. The cut worms and hairv caterpillars of this species 

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[ 102 ] 


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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


are the most extensively eaten. The largest item of the blue¬ 
bird’s food consists of orthoptera, grasshoppers, crickets and 
others of the same species. The insects of this species are harm¬ 
ful and when numerous, are very destructice, as they prey en¬ 
tirely upon the farmer’s crops. It seems almost a provision of 
Nature, that all birds are especially fond of these insects. 

Several species of other insects are eaten by the bluebird, , 
such as spiders, which are consumed more extensivelv by the 
bluebird, than by the robin, sow bugs, angleworms and snails. 


Y\ 

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The vegetable diet of the bluebird consists mostly of fruity 

// ^ 

of which practically all is of a wild variety. Some chertie§T 

. I ' . 1 J 

rasperries and blackberries have been identified in 1 ’ nr 


stomachs, but not enough to do any harm. The largest quantity" 
of wild fruit eaten by the bluebird is in December, while in May 
no fruit of any kind is eaten. The fruit-eating period of the 



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bluebird is not in the Summer, but from October to February, 


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when nearly all the fruit is waste fruit and when species of in- 

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sects are very scarce. Seeds are seldom, if ever, eaten by the 

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bluebird. A few grains of wheat, bay berry and sumac, com¬ 
plete the seed diet of the bluebird. 

Summing up the diet of the bluebird shows that this bird 


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is one of our most valuable insectivorous bipeds and one that 



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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


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should be encouraged to live near the abode of man, so as to aid 
him in his extermination of insect pests. When the fruits, such 
as strawberries, cherries, raspberries, and blackberries are at 
their best, the bluebird lives upon insects to the extent of four- 
fifths of its food. Its fruit-eating period is from the late Fall 
to early Spring. One point, though not of much consequence, 
is, that the bluebird destroys predacious beetles to a very large 
extent during the early Spring. 

L \ 

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"In the thickets and the meadows 
Piped the bluebird, the Owaissa. 
On the summit of the lodges, 
Sang the robin, the Opechee.” 


Longfellow. 



















AUTUMNAL DAYS 


“What visionary tints the year puts on, 

When falling leaves falter through motionless air 
Or numbly cling and shiver to be gone! 


How shimmer the low flats and pastures bare, 

As with her nectar Hebe Autumn fills 
The bowl between me and those distant hills, 

And smiles and shakes abroad her misty, tremulous hair 

Lowell • 



































AUTUMN 


“I love to wander through the woodlands hoary 
In the soft light of an autumnal day 
When Summer gathers up her robes of glory 
And like a dream of beauty glides away.” 

Sarah Helen Whitman. 

W HAT is more wonderful that a quiet stroll through 
some beautiful woods on a clear, warm Autumn 

morning. The air is redolent of the spicy breath of 

\ \ , ^->1 /!' * 

pine trees and the scent of burning leaves. tdfiSm m 

The hills surrounding the woods are one mass of rich, 
waving color, of red, russet, gold and yellow, while here and there 
a vivid patch of green shows where the belligerent attacks of 
Jack Frost have as yet been unsuccessful. Clumps of purple 
asters border the roads, while the fields are yellow with 
golden rod. 

\ \l 

Most of our Summer song birds have left for their Winter 

• | 

homes, but the woods are still filled with stragglers and perma¬ 
nent residents. Robins fill the deep woods with their continual 
chirping, while cardinals, some of the warblers, and wrens, find 

food in trees and fields. Saucy chickadees, those jolly Winter 

b —***** ’ ’ 1 A 

neighbors, scold from every branch, as though challenging the 


IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


r 



right of the rest of their feathered folk to feed on their crimson 
domain. Nuthatches and titmice hunt together and keep up a 
merry conversation with all who happen to pass by. 

The wonderful color schemes that sweep before one’s eyes 
seem almost impossible to describe. The natural blending of 
Nature’s colors beggars description. I doubt if it would have 
been possible for the impressionistic Turner to paint such a 
wonderful scene. Surely no one else need try. 

j i — / 

And yet in a few weeks, that slip by only too fast, this won- 

! 

derful blending of color will be swept away by Winter’s icy 

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blasts, and another evolution of Nature will have taken place. 



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“In warlike pomp, with banners flowing. 

The regiments of Autumn stood: 

I saw their gold and scarlet glowing 
From every hillside, every wood.” 

Henry Van Dyke. 



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AFIELD IN OCTOBER 


“The Summer’s throbbing chant is done 
And mute the choral antiphon; 

The birds have left the shivering pines 
To flit among the trellised vines, 

Or fan the air with scented plumes 
Amid the love-sick orange blooms, 

And thou art here alone,—alone, 

Sing little bird; the rest have flown.” 

O. IV. Holmes. 



I KNOW of nothing more fascinating or exhilarating, than 
a stroll through some quiet woods on a beautiful, crisp 
October morning. With a couple of younger brother bird- 
enthusiasts and armed with field glasses and note books, we 
started out early, one October morning, for a densely-wooded 
hill just south of town. In half an hour we were well away from 
the city’s glamour and noise, and inhaling th$ pure au¬ 
tumnal air. • -c 





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All about us was evidence of Jack Frost’s/belligerent 

(a*! /, y 1 

efforts. The fields, a month before green, and fragrant and full 


c? • 




of birds, were now withered and sure proof of the wonderful 
evolution of Nature. Here and there clumps of purple New 


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England asters asserted their rights to live their short existence, 


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while slender golden rods nodded to the October winds. The 


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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


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hills, as we approached them, appeared through our glasses 
rich undulating color, vivid and startling against 
blue of the sky beyond. 

-dee-dee-chick, a-dee-dee!” “Do you hear that, 
r es, but I don’t see him.” Again came the clear, 



saucy, scolding notes just over our heads. “I see him!” called 



0^ 


Jack. Sure enough, there he was, a black-capped chickadee, 


hanging from the end of a branch of a small sapling, sending 
out his scolding notes and fairly bubbling over with good na¬ 





ture. “Don’t they ever go south?” inquired Jack. “No, they 
are one of our very few resident birds, and help share the long 
Winter with us,” I answered. 

Mr. Chick hopped a few feet closer, his black cap bobbing 

V I 5 \ i 

here and there. He certainly was a bundle of nerves. Now 
on one limb, then on another, hunting for small insects and 
spider eggs that he might find lurking beneath the bark. 


“Well, that’s number one for this morning,” remarked Tom 




as he made a note in his book. 


V\3 




V 


We had proceeded but a few yards when a nasal, “yank- 


yank” greeted our ears, and looking up w r e saw the author of 


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of an oak limb. 






this queer sound, peering down upon us from the under-side 

[ 112 ] 




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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


“I know what kind of a bird that is,” yelled Jack. “All 
right, let’s have it,” Tom and I chorused. White-breasted 
nuthatch,” said Jack. 

“That’s what he is, and a beautiful bird at that, with his 
bluish-black crown and blue-gray back. Another of our resi¬ 
dent birds who helps lift the burden of our long Winter days. 
Notice how he goes down the tree trunk head downward. His 


tail is short and square which enables him to balance himself 
perfectly.” 


ft'.'.'' 


Another “yank-yank, ya-ya,/' as if to inquire why our in¬ 
trusion on his domain and he was off for another tree in a dis- 

c 

tant part of the woods. 

We now approached an opening through the trees, a small 
swampy patch of rank weeds and undergrowth. A bird flew up 
from a pool of water where it had been bathing, and darted into 
the bushes. 

“Did you see him?” asked Tom. 







/ /// 


“Yes,” I answered, “looked like some kind of a sparrow, 
but I’m not sure.” 

- / f\ I 

‘ 

While we were standing there waiting for him to come out, 

the bird accommodated us by flying into the open where he 

V L V ' / 




IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 





gave us all a good view of himself. “Isn’t he a beauty?” whis¬ 
pered Jack, peering through his glasses. 

“Do either of you know what he is?” I queried. 

“Looks something like a sparrow; all but his head and 


roat,’F$aid Tom. 

“Well, he belongs to the sparrow' family, and his white 


throat proclaims him to be the white-throated sparrow. He is 


•rarely seen here during the Winter, but is quite common in the 
Spring and Summer months. He is now probably on his migra¬ 
tion to a warmer clime. They say he is the handsomest of our 
sparrows. His call is sharp, high-pitched, and a very clear and 


swteet whistle, ‘peabody bird’.” But all we heard was his call 



note when alarmed. He now flew down and began busily to 

P 

hunt for breakfast or probably lunch, as his breakfast time was 


d so we left him to the task. 


Third one this morning,” yelled Jack, “and it isn’t eight 


yet. Pretty good, isn’t it, for a half-hour’s walk?” 


‘Not so bad for this time of the year,” I replied. 





We were just crossing a shallow brook bordered by a clump 
of willow*} w r hen Jack stopped short. “Did you hear that?’ 


>» 


0 >\\ 1 | y/ 

N v “Hear what?” inquired Tom 'and myself. 

Tn of f o J" itt o r* r*/-**a 1 t t oil/JiKI n 1 r i t*r\ o 



ust then a few scarcely audible weak chirps reached our 




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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


ears. They came from the willows so we immediately pro¬ 
ceeded toward them in hopes of locating the owner of the mys¬ 
terious notes. After a few minutes of anxious searching we all 

located the bird at about the same instant. To tell the truth, 

/ 

I did not know what he was, as I could only see his breast and 
there were no distinguishing marks about it, until he bent low 
over the twig in his search for food, and then I discerned his 
beautiful golden crown and knew him to be a golden-crowned 
kinglet, a very pretty little bird a trifle smaller than the warblers. 

“I know what he is,” I exclaimed, and I had the two of my 

' 

companions greatly excited until I let them in on the mystery. 
This had only been their second time out on a bird study expe¬ 
dition, hence their ignorance of some of the more common birds. 
“Does he stay with us the entire year?” asked Jack. 





> .< 



‘No,” I answered, he is only a Winter resident and arrives 

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V , ^ fy A / v VCT _ _ , / 

here about this time, but leaves again in April for the mountain 
regions and spruce forests of our northern states where he 

V’ „ _ jC 

breeds. He is a verv hardy little bird and endures our most 

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“severe Winters with evident relish.” 

hX / u l ■ / ‘ ... 3 

“There is a robin,” remarked Tom, as we were climbing a 
steep hill for a short cut to another part of the woods 
‘Did you say that was a robin, Tom? 

[ 115 ] 


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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


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Sure,- don’t you see him over there among those dead 



leaves near that clump of bushes?” A hardy outburst of 
laughter greeted our ears, and we saw Jack with glasses levelled 
at the bird. 

'K r i ' 

“Why, I know what he is,” he exclaimed and again he 
laughed as he saw the chagrin of disappointment on Tom’s 
countenance. 

“That’s a towhee, isn’t it, Dick?” addressing me. 

“It’s a towhee alright, but how did you know it?” 

“Oh, I remembered a description I read of a bird, some 

time ago, and how easily it can be mistaken for a robin,” he 

■ff* -" 7 *—\ 

nodded mischievously toward Tom who was busily engaged in 

V / \ 

/ / \ 

watching the actions of said towhee, and acting as though he 




did not hearxthe last remarks. Just then a clear, “tow-hee-ee” 


5 > 




rang through the woods, and our bird flew up to a low-hanging 
branch of a small sapling and answered a “chewing-chewing 

l Yi /X \ 

from which he also derives his name of chewink. 

The towhee is not usually a resident, but he leaves for otner 

// df. / ( ) _ 

climes about the first of November, although males are some¬ 
times seen in these parts the year around. 


. m 


As we were descending the hill on our homeward journev 

v \W\Y'JI!i l/l 


a sharp “peenk, peenk, peenk,” reached our ears from an oak 

[ 116 ] 

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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


tree about fifty feet ahead of us. We cautiously advanced 
toward the tree and after a few minutes’ search, discovered a 
downy woodpecker about half-way up the tree, busily engaged 
in searching for spiders’ eggs, and larvae, that do more or less 
harm to the trees. 

Both of my companions knew the diminutive downy 
through their bird guides, and both were anxious to make his 
acquaintance face to face. 

He is another one of our permanent residents and stays 

\ . \ . | 

with us throughout the Winter, even visiting our houses in 

places where he is fed. 



Mr 

After explaining the little I know of Mr. Downie’s habits, 
we proceeded toward home, and after a delightful and thor¬ 
oughly educational walk, it can be imagined what we did to a 
good lunch that awaited us when we arrived home. 




\“No loud, high notes for tender days like these! 
No trumpet tones, no swelling words of pride 




Beneath these skies, so like dim Summer seas, 

Where hazy ships of cloud at anchor ride. 

At peace are earth and sky, while softly fall 

The brown leaves at my feet; a holy palm 

x Rests in a benediction over all, 

O silent peace! O days of silent calm.” 

~ "'1 

Ellen P. Allertan. 


■y 




“OLD HEAD HUNTER” 


-4 



“In the hollow tree, in the old gray tower 
The spectral owl doth dwell; 

Dull, hated, despised, in the sunshine hour. 

But at dusk—he’s abroad and well! 

Not a bird of the forest e’er mates with him— 

All mark him outright, by day: 

But at night, when the woods grow still and dim. 

The boldest will shrink away! 

O when night falls, and roosts the fowl, 

Then, then, is the reign of the Horned Owl.” 

Barrx Corwall. 


Vo /% 

T was a brilliant, starry night, in early Autumn. A full 
moon rode high in the vaulted heavens and shed its rich, 
mellow rays over fields and forests, where, filtering through A 


the leaves of the dark and silent trees it cast fantastic splotches 


of light upon the woodland paths. The chirp of crickets and the 

monotonous drone of numerous other nocturnal insects still 

> 

- A f tU • A jT .. . L Sc 

filled the air, while the occasional call of some night bird 

startled the intruder with its weird and mysterious sounds. 


<7$ 
( W 


During a lull in the insect serenade there came floating 

irtr 


upon the crisp night wind the hoarse, discordant hoot of a great 







IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


in sound and volume until all the furry nightfolk of the forest 
scampered in terror to places of safety, as well as they might. 
They knew the prowess and hunting ability of “Old Head 
Hunter,” as the folks in the neighboring village called this 
wraith-like bird, because of numerous depredations committed 
on their poultry yards and dove cotes; taking only the heads 
of his victims, as the brains were the tid-bits he delighted in. 
Again “Old Head Hunter” was preparing to exact his nightly 
toll from among the smaller denizens of the forest. 

In almost uncanny silence, on swift, hawk-like wings, he 

(/ yZ N __ 

came sailing through the woodland and alighted on the dead 

branch of a towering oak, from where he made his sallies upon 

/ JH—' 

his unfortunate victims. A deep-toned, “to-whoo-hoo-hoo, to- 
whoo-hoo,” that sounded like a muffled roll of thunder, startled 
the furry folk, and again sent them scampering to places of 
safety. But, one poor, unfortunate little mouse, probably a bit 
bolder than the rest, ventured too far from his place of safety, 
and before it had time to escape, the claws of “Old Head 
Hunter” had sunk into his back; with a squeal of terror, the 
mouse was borne in triumph to the dead oak limb, where the 
great horned owl, for such “Old Head Hunter” was, began to 

/ 1 /u \ • 1 

[ 119 ] 




V 


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WA - 


IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


V 


V 


devour his victim. With his powerful beak he ripped the head 



ody. Another rip and he laid bare the brains, which 


\ he gulped down with evident relish. 


“Old Head Hunter,” unlike the rest of his tribe, was not 


V 


N>. 


content with devouring his victims, but only delighted in eating 
their brains, so that he always kept up a relentless attack on 
the quail, grouse, snipe, rats, squirrels, mice, chickens, turkeys, 

in short, about evervthing he could kill. His nightly toll was 

'■ 


between ten and twenty victims, and the neighboring villages, 


unwilling to tamely submit to his maraudings upon their 
poultry' coops, offered rewards for his body. But “Old Head 


/'f 


Hunter” was too wary for all of them, and invariably eluded 


/ 


their most cunnihg schemes to capture or to kill him. 


In another part of the forest all was serene and calm. A 




break among the stately trees permitted a flood of light to 

■ J yjy k 1. ! f tf | | 

silver the ground .' In this spot a mother rabbit was giving her 
half-grown children their, evening exercise. . Running about, 
gamboling over the rich carpet of fallen leaves, the young cotton 
tails were having, oblivious to all impending danger, a delight¬ 


ful time. Suddenly a great, ominous shadow poised over them. 


\ / 


The mother rabbit squeaked her call of alarm, but too late! A 
short scuffle, a clapping of huge wings, and one of the little 


/ 


[ 120 ] 




l \V 



IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


family fell victim to the ravenous maw of “Old Head Hunter,” 
who sallied silently back to his perch to devour his latest prize. 
Where only a few minutes before peace and freedom dwelt, now 
a poor mother was mourning the loss of one of her young, pow¬ 
erless to avenge its untimely death. The brains of the young 

! v 

rabbit only served to whet “Old Head Hunter’s” appetite, and 
with another long and weird hoot he was off in search of another 
victim, which this time happened fo be a large rat that mo¬ 
mentarily exposed himself as he ran across a moonlit space near 


a farm yard. In a few seconds the rodent was beheaded and the 

brains devoured. A pigeon straggler in a dove cote near the 

/ v " . 

scene of the last tragedy was the next to fall prey to the rapa- 

cious bird of the night. “Old Head Hunter” was fairly gloating 

\ \\ ^ n 

in blood. The terror of the woods was in his glory. 

Having feasted on the pigeon brain, “Old Head Hunter,” 
not wishing to take any more chances in such close proximity 


to human habitation, sailed back toward the woods in search 

V Vv-' / 

of another variety of “brain special.” He had not long to wait. 

In a marshy bog that bordered his domain, a small flock of 
ducks had paused for rest and food on their long migrations 

———*•** / At 

southward. His sharp ears caught their squawks of contented- 

y ^ # siw! \( 

ness as they settled for the night; his piercing eyes discerned 



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r 121 ] 




- hi 



IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 



them among the reeds, and swooping with a rush he descended 
upon the flock and his sharp claws tore into the soft back of a 
Mallard duck. With a cry of terror the unfortunate bird was 
borne to “Old Flead Hunter’s” perch, where he speedily went 


the way of his predecessors. 


Just as “rosy-fingered dawn” was tinting the eastern sky 
the Great Horned Owl disposed of his last victim, a song spar¬ 


er 


row that had stirred out a little too early. As the darkness of 


/ 



the forest gave way to the gray twilight of the early morning, 
he slowly and silently sailed away to his home, somewhere in 
the* depths of the tamarack swamp, where he still lives un- 




molested and unavenged. He builded wisely, as the approach 


to his castle, owing to the tangled undergrowth and insecure 

C3 

footing, is almost impassible for human pursuers. 

^ 0 

“So, when the night falls, and dogs do howl, 

Sing, Ho! for the reign of the Horned Owl! 

We know not alway 
Who are Kings by day; 

But the King of the night is the bold brown Owl.” 


00 


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Barry Cornwall. 


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WINTER MONTHS 






























\ 


WINTER MONTHS 

I . 

‘His breath like silver arrows pierced the air, 
The naked earth crouched shuddering at his feet, 
His finger on all flowing waters sweet 
Forbidding lay-motion nor sound was there 
Nature was frozen dead,-:—and still and slow, 


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A winding sheet fell o’er her body fair, 

Flaky and soft, from his wide wings of snow. 


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Frances Antic Kemble 


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OUR FEATHERED WINTER RESIDENTS 


‘O cheery bird of Winter cold, 

I bless thy every feather; 

Thy voice brings back dear boyhood days, 


When we were gay together.’’ 


/ 

Burroughs. 


. 


I 


i\ 






\ S the last lingering days of late Summer merge into the 
/“A flaming glory of those of early Autumn, most of our 

feathered songsters begin their migrations to warmer 

- 

climes. Great flocks of blackbirds, meadow larks and robins 
may be seen wending their way southward, intermingling in 
perfect peace and contentment as they stop at intervals on their 
long journey, for food and drink. 

While these, and thousands of others of our feathered 
neighbors, take up their Winter residence in warmer latitudes, 
the more hardy of our birds are preparing for the season of cold 

/ j 1 

weather in practically the same localities where they raised their 3/<i 
broods or sang their ditties of love during the Spring and Sum- 
mer. They seek the evergreen woods, or appropriate the clefts 


ft 

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and crevices of decaying deciduous trees. Hardy birds as they 


are, these retreats amply protect them from the icy blasts of 


Winter, even though the struggle for existence is a precarious 




one. 


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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


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One ojFthe most common of our Winter residents is the 
chickadee. This diminutive ball of good cheer is about an inch 


mailer than the English sparrow. He is quite distinguished in 
appearance. The crown of his head, nape and throat, are black. 




A white space beginning at the base of its bill spreads over the 


cheeks, widening over the upper part of the breast until it forms 

A 

y a collar around his neck. Underneath is a dirty grayish white, 
and a rusty brown wash on both sides. The wings and tail 


are 


gray, with white etchings. 


\ ¥ 


No seeker of fair weather is this jolly little bird, and you 


have probably heard, on more than one occasion, his plaintive, 



“chickadee-dee-dee-dee” outside your window when a snow- 






storm was at its height. 

i i X M \ 


The chickadee is one of our most friendly feathered neigh- 

y 1 • / ' J-^ 


bors. His confidence can easily be gained, whereupon he re¬ 
mains a life-long friend, coming every Winter, to help cheer up 


through the long, weary months. A great aid in trying to gain 
his confidence is by placing food, such as finely cracked oats, 
wheat or minced meat, in sheltered places. A piece of suet tied 





to the limb of a tree, or a raw bone hung from an evergreen 

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bough will, nevertheless, always be appreciated. 


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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 



The chickadee, however, serves a more useful purpose than 
trymg to cheer faint-hearted humanity. It is the well known 
and destructive enemy to the canker worm moth, and it is estK 

mated the chickadee eats over a hundred thousand eggs in the 

/ j Uv 

twenty-five days it takes this moth to crawl up the trees. It 

I v -^ \ ' 

may readily be seen that it pays to protect the chickadee in 
Winter for the good deeds he performs in Summer. 

Another of our permanent feathered residents is the white- 
breasted nuthatch. A hunter of the deep, silent pine woods is 

' . > • ; ‘: a: w 

this fearless little acrobat. He is a trifle smaller than the Eng¬ 
lish sparrow. The top of his head and nape are black, while his 
back is slate-colored. The wings, of a dark slate, are tipped 

with black, which fades to brown. The tail feathers are brown- 

j 

ish black with white bars. The sides of the head are white. 

The body, underneath, is at first a white, but shades to a pale 
red under the tail. 





Probably you have seen him while walking through the 
woods on a cold Winter’s day, running along the branch of sohie 

t / / 


■ tree; now on the underside, again on top, busily engaged in 

breaking up little pieces of bark, searching for spider’s 7 eggs. 

IK J JpL 

At your approach he pauses in his work and peers fearlessly 


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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


down at you, as if to inquire why you intrude on his domain. 
Only a few moments, and seeing that you intend no harm, he 


resumes his task of destroying larvae. 

The most frigid weather has no terrors for this hardy little 
tree mouse,” as he is sometimes called. His cheery “quank, 
quank, hank, hank,” may be heard while the mercury hovers 
iat zero-and the snow hurls through his feeding grounds. He is 
usually seen in company with the titmice, chickadees, kinglets 
and brown creepers. 

/O /V 

Closely related to the white-breasted nuthatch is his red- 

(fi h* 

breasted cousin of the same name. Lead-colored above, he has 




■ 




rownish wings and tail. The head and neck are black; like¬ 
's. 

wise the chin and shoulders. A white stripe passes through 
the eye to the shoulder. The under part is light and rusty red. 





The tail feathers are barred with white and edged with pale 
brown. 

IQ 

This tiny Winter resident is easily distinguished from his 

Co 

rger cousin by his red breast. The red-breasted nuthatch is 


7%A 


generally seen in company with his relatives, the white breast 
and the brown creeper, while the ruby-crowned kinglet and th 



chickadees are not barred from his societv. 


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130 





IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


Like the larger relative, the red-breasted nuthatch has the 
habit of darting along the boughs of trees and running along the 
underside. The common note of this bird somewhat resembles 
that of the white breast, but it is higher pitched and uttered at 


\\ 


more frequent intervals. 


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I 


A near relative of the chickadee is the bold, little, tufted 
titmouse. It is about the size of the English sparrow. It has 


a crest which is high and pointed, and is ashy-blue in color. 


Ash-gray or leaden is its coat. The wings and tail a 



dark, and the shoulders are black. The sides of the head/anTa 
dirty white, while those of the body are a yellowish-white, tinted ik.: 
with red. 


Although very diminutive in size, this pert and dainty little 
bird resembles the blue jay in miniature, minus the latter’s 


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gaudy color. Here is the leader of the Winter bird troupe. His 


call of “cheevy, cheevy,” is one of the most familiar sounds in 

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the Winter woods. Hopping ahead of you, he always sees to it 


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that you are not lonely on your Winter afternoon’s walk. Lead- 

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ing you farther and farther into the woods, constantly hopping 

from twig to twig a few feet above your head, he is always cheer- 


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ing you on. 

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/IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE V 


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The tufted titmouse is especially valuable and much 




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respected for the number of insects he destroys during the Fall 
and Winter months. 




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Probably one of our least known Winter residents is the 


brown creeper. Like the tufted titmouse, he is about the size 

.''■V 

of the English sparrow, brown above, and with ashy-gray 


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stripes, and small, oval-shaped gray mottles. Color is rather 

light on his head, increasing in shade to redish-brown near the 

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tail; the wings are brown, and underneath are covered with a 
gray-white. A slender, curving bill ornaments the creeper. 

This scrupulous little worker is the very* embodiment of per- 

I L-— ' \ 

sistent diligence. He is usually seen in company with the nut¬ 
hatches, the chickadees and the kinglets, but at times becomes 
rather solitary, preferring to be alone. He is precision itself, 

V s v | j 1 I— 

in the manner of obtaining food; beginning at the foot of some 

rough-barked tree, he silently climbs upward in a sort of spiral 

\ f v j \ \ 

fashion, now lost to sight on one side, then appearing just whejfe 
he is expected to, on the other. It takes him just about fifty 


seconds to finish a tree, with all his painstaking care. Then off 

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again to the foot of another tree, he repeats his spiral methods: 

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throughout the livelong day. 

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[ 132 ] 

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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


At times, while clinging with frozen toes to some trees, he 
still finds time to utter his repertory of pleasing notes which 
are distinctly characteristic of him. The brown-creeper’s 
plumage is an extraordinary feat of imitation; being an exact 
reproduction of the tree bark on which he lives. 

Another one of our permanent residents is the golden- 
crowned kinglet. He is about one-half the size of the English 
sparrow. His crown patch is of a bright orange or flame color, 
bordered by yellow, and enclosed by a black line. The upper 


parts of the body are of a grayish-olive hue. The wings and 

/ \ \ At 

tail are dusky, bordered by olive green, which underneath is 


grayish white. 


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When Autumn is in all her colored splendor, and Dame 

\ . V 

Nature lavishes the hillsides with dashes of rich red and yellow 
coloring, this little bit of bird life arrives, to share with us our 
Winter. He is a veritable bundle of nerves, constantly flitting 
• about the twigs of some tree, searching the bark for hidden in- 

I \ > A/ 

sects, fluttering his wings and scarcely giving you a chance to 
distinguish him, until you discern his flaming crown. Zero 
weather is immaterial to him, and with evident relish of the 
cold he calls out his shrill “zee, zee, zee,” from the pines and 

jjf \/ — ''[)/ 

spruce. Although usually seen in the company of the brown 

[ 133 ] 




IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


creeper, the kinglet has none of his energy, and rather inclines 
to take things easier. Like the nuthatches, he can hang upside 
down from any limb, and pick off an insect with the skill of 




(, 



any of his neighbors. 

The hairy woodpecker is one of the most diligent workers 

."V 

of the Wiiiter troop. He is about the size of a robin, black and 
white above, with white below. A bright red patch is on the 

« ^ 'y' ^ r x 

nape of his neck, and the wings are striped and dashed with 
black and white. The outer tail feathers are white, without 


Tars.s A white stripe is about the eyes, and on the sides of the 
head. 



We all know the bill of the woodpecker is well adapted for 

ii 


its work. Its business in life is to protect the tree by destroying 


L 






the insects that lurk beneath their bark. In any kind of weather 





this faithful bird may be seen clinging to the trunk of some tree, 


k 




busily engaged in plying his vocation. We naturally associate 


this hardy bird with the Winter weather, for by his very nature 


he is able to obtain an abundant food supply much more readilyS 


than most of the other non-migratory birds, which makes him 






free from the depressing spirit of the season. He is in the 

■ t ''' 7 





IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


for hidden worms and larvae, it seems as if the hairy wood¬ 
pecker depends upon the sense of hearing to detect his prey. 
A ‘‘tap, tap, tap/’ is followed by a pause, as if he is trying to de¬ 
tect the escape of some hidden insect, and he is very persistent 
in his efforts. This bird is very independent, and is rarely seen 
in the company of any of his neighbors, although, at times, he 
may join a group of chickadees, kinglets, nuthatches and 
creepers. 










The hairy woodpecker is a drummer, not a singer, but his 


/ 


steady “tap, tap,” upon some resonant bough is a pleasing sound 


as one enters and wanders through the wood on a dismal 



Winter’s dav. 


The downy woodpecker is another of our Winter residents 


He is similar in color and shape to his relative, the hairy wood¬ 



pecker, but not quite as large. He is about the size of the Eng¬ 


f) 


lish sparrow, black above, and striped with white. The tail is 


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wedge-shaped, and the tail feathers are white, barred with white. 


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A black stripe appears on the top of the head and a distinct 




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white band over the eyes, with a red patch on the side of the 

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neck. The wings have numerous bands crossing them with 


white underneath. 


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l OF BIRD LIFE 


V 



\ The downy woodpecker is one of our most confiding species 
of birds. He is fearless and full of curiosity, too; and one of 


the most devoted members of the Winter band. 


/4 



He begins his tireless efforts of life, by searching for insects 


W 




at the bottom of some tree, working his way around it and 


climbing spirally, then working one branch after another until 

he has finished the tree. He burrows deeply into the wood, but 

iCfj). \ % 

does practically no harm, as his work is mostly all in the de- 


cayed parts, where the worms are to be found. His work is, in 



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fact, of inestimable value to the tree, as he destroys its real 

enemies. As he flits from tree to tree he utters a characteristic 

' ' V 

pink” or “wink,” sometimes a rattling call which is scarcely 
distinguishable from that of the hairy variety, although less in 
volume and of a more pleasing quality. 

Among his other qualities, the downy woodpecker is very 

T' y \ 

friendly, and is sbmetirries seen pecking away at some hollow 


limb just outside your window. He very often visits villages, 




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frequently the trees on the streets, or the fruit trees of the 


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back yards. 

A member of one of the largest bird families is the tree 
sparrow. He is one of our most friendly companions as we 
plod through a field on a cold Winter’s day. He is about the 

[ 136 ] 


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IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


size of the English sparrow. The crown is of bright chestnut.- 
A gray line passes over the cheek, and the throat and breast are "\ 
gray. The back is brown, the feathers have edges of black and 
buff; the wings are dusky, with two whitish bars across them. 
The tail feathers are brown, bordered wpth grayish white. 

Under some unburied weed patch, in a field piled high with 

V j , 

snowdrifts, a flock of these cold-defying, hardy little birds will 
keep up a constant twittering, as if trying to dissipate the cold 


«Mr< 




Winter’s weariness. 

The tree sparrow is one of the most numerous I 

/ \ \ W^tl- 

found during the Winter season;/ flocks of them of from a dozen 

_d -- ''''-'.V.A |\| 

to two or three hundred, are common in localities where weed 

\ i V / \\ 

fields are abundant. 

Bv his name one might imply that the bird lives in trees, 


but op the contrary, he is seldom seen there, preferring the 

\ "Xj II tii ' * 1 

small, low bushes and usually wood patches, for his home. His 

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song is sweet, melodious, “Swee-ho, tweet, tweet,” that may be 


l 

heard on any mild Winter’s day. 




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The cardinal is not a permanent Winter resident of the 
north, but he is a frequent visitor. He is a trifle smaller than 


. 


. ... 


the robin. Brilliant cardinal m color, gives the bird his name. 

Hiyr T 1 y 

r H 7 1 









IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 



His chin and a band around his bill are black. His beak is 
stout and red, and his wings are grayish colored during the 
Winter. 

What is more beautiful, on a Winter landscape, when the 

__ \ 

earth is cldthed in a thick mantle of snow, and the evergreens 


droop heavily under their burden of fleecy whiteness, than the 

' 

i"ed flashes of a little group of cardinals in some cedar tree, con¬ 
trasting strongly against the richness of their surroundings? 
When the Winter is very severe and food is scarce, this haughty 

/TV7/ /Pi /"X 

little aristocrat of birddom will often deign to mingle with the 
chickadees and nuthatches, sharing the food that was placed for 
them by teome bird lover. 

The cardinal is seldom seen permanently located in one 
place during the Winter. He usually 

his own species, continuing on through places where he can 

make his way. Endowed by Nature with a wonderful voice, 
i; \ . < ..... k f 

the cardinal is sometimes called the “Virginia nightingale,” but 

£ V 

his rich “choo,” is seldom heard during the short Winter days/ ^ 

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The blue jay is another of our well-known birds which ~:-r: 

I 



roams about in flocks of 



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shares the Winter months with us. He is somewhat larger than 


the robin. With blue above, a black band around the neck, 

vvx ■ ./ ■ . 





lie is a grayish-white underneath. The wing coverts and tail 






[ 138 ,.] 


V 


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' 




IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


are bright blue and barred with black stripes. The head is finely 
crested. The bill, tongue and legs are black. This bold ravisher 
of bird nests is, perhaps, one of the finest colored of all our 
birds. He usually travels in flocks of some twelve to a hundred 
of his own species. Like the cardinal, he seldom remains in one 



locality during the \\ inter months, preferring to travel on, hunt- 




ing better and happier feeding grounds as he goes on.\ When 
hard pressed for food, however, he boldly mixes with the chicka- 

V 

dees that congregate in our yards, to partake of the suet,\ 
chopped meats and cracked wheat that is provided for thpn. 

The blue jay’s voice is anything but musical, and his har$h 
screams and shrieks seem sometimes to drown the voices of 


/ 

/ 


l 



\ more gifted fellow-creatures. 

I have said nothing in this paper of the game birds that are 
always with us, but that is a subject for a future efforts 

7 / _ 

“But cheerily the chickadee 

Singeth to me on fence and tree; / c 

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The snow sails round him as he sings, 
White as the down of angels’ wings.” 


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Trozvbridge. 

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[ 139 J 

10 

Tr. .. 0 









A WINTER'S WALK IN HIGHWOOD 




A 

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“Under the snowdrifts the blossoms are sleeping, 
Dreaming their dreams of sunshine and June, 
Down in the hush of their quiet they’re keeping 




A- 




Trills from the throstle’s wild summer-sung tune.” 

Harriet Prescott Spofford. 


<L> 




X WAS fourteen years of age and Bud was twelve, when we 
received our first shotguns. I am nearly sixteen now, but 
I look back to the event as the first great episode of our 
lives. We had wished for guns from the time we knew what 
hunting was, and that was long, long ago; for the love of out¬ 
door sport came to us through heredity and environment. Dad 
was Nimrod of old and many were the stories he told us of sports 
afield when we were small boys, which made our trigger-fingers 
tingle, and our blood surge to the surface in anticipation of like 
experiences. [ J 

Our guns were single-barreled 16-gauge, breech loaders, 
bored for nitro powder. We received them two days before the 
close of the quail and rabbit season, so we importuned Dad 
to take us out before the season closed. 

^Accordingly, on December fourth, we boarded the six 
o'clock traction for York, a little town a few miles distant. 











IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


After reaching York we walked about two miles until we arrived 
at the farm of a relative where we intended to do our hunting. 

The place was called Highwood, a very appropriate name, 
considering its wooded hills and undulating fields. Highwood 
is one of the most ideal spots near town and appeals to all who 
have the love of outdoors at heart. The house, which is used as 


a Summer home for the family, is situated on a little knoll over- 

/ / I , /// 

looking a small creek. A rustic bridge crosses the stream and 
leads up to the house of the tenant. On the east and west were 
large cornfields, while here and there amongst the stalks, a 

/ \ Air. SjT 

golden pumpkin showed a yellow face. The creek which ran 
past the house widened down below, and formed a little, trans- 
parent pool in a ravine, which was bordered by locust and 


W i 




willow trees. 

\ 

As soon as we reached the cozy house, we built a roaring 

\ 

fire in the old-time fireplace, to warm ourselves. Having as¬ 


sembled our guns, we filled our pockets with shells, and were 

I " v;v;> * / • 

ready for our first experience with a shotgun. I almost forgot 

. ■ / / 
y / *« / f 

to say, we took our pointer, Toby, with us, for we had seen sev¬ 


. 


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eral bevies of quail in the coverts north of the house, during 

q _ _ „/ ^ ^ ' C) 

the previous Summer. 






[ ] 







IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


A light snow had fallen the night before, making the track¬ 
ing of rabbits comparatively easy. The snow was not so good 
for the dog’s nose, however, but on a snowy day the quail do not 
fly so far, so we were at no disadvantage. The tracks of many 
rabbits showed that this game, at least, was plentiful. We had 
been walking about half an hour when Bud, who was a little to 
the r#ar of us, yelled out: “There goes a rabbit!” and to the 
left a little white streak went skimming along the stubble* 
followed by a charge of shot from Bud’s gun, which did not 
affect the bunny’s progress in the least. I then shot, and still 
he kept going at a lightning-like pace. Dad whistled and called, 

but Toby did not return, so we decided that he must be some- 

\ip '■'j 3 

where on point. We went over to the covert, a short dis- 

^ - .bA ; 

tance away, and there, to Bud’s and my surprise, Toby was 
standing rigid as a statue. Dad went in and flushed the birds, 


0,3' 


0 


but we were too excited to shoot, because of the loud whirr, 




whirr, whirr of the birds as they flushed. We marked the 
singles, however, as they alighted, and soon Toby had another 

C ( • • s" . O {• 


* 


point> Dad flushed the bird and as it arose, I fired. I did not 


have any intimation that I would come within five feet of it 

' , Q . 

until Tobv, good dog that he was, brought the bird to me. That 

■ ftfy l .J . ' . v ^ 

was a proud moment for me, as this was my first quail. 

(H f 




r i 



IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


Just then Dad called out that Toby had another point, and 

this time Bud got a chance to show his skill; he was not equal 

to the occasion, however, and Dad brought down the brown 

beauty with his second barrel. Now we were all anxious to get 

a rabbit, and as we were crossing the creek, one was started 

from under a brush pile. This time Bud got a kill, and Dad said 

it was one of the prettiest shots he had ever seen. Bud was more 

astonished than I. He attributed his achievement to luck. 

It was beginning to snow, and this made the furuall the 

. . - 

merrier from our point of view, but Dad said this would end 

r 7 . 

/ / l* — 

our quail shooting and he generally knows what he is talking 
about. His conclusion proved to be correct, for we saiw no more 
quail that day. 

It was about 11 o’clock when we started for the house, 
and on the way thither, Dad bowled over a line rabbit 7 that — -—LJj 



) 


• • • 

seemed to be going a mile a minute. When we reached the 


3 


house the fire was still burning, and having replenished it, we 

0 ... /> 

"\wanned the coffee, and were soon sailing into the lunch we had 


* 

V 


taken with us. The luncheon hour is always one of the most 


c? 


ill 

fc> 


< 6 . 


pleasant ones of a day’s hunt. Tired and hungry, we sat down 


L ivfe 


a 


and ate our plain fare with a relish, food that at any other time 


C7 P\ 




J//7 

V 


would hardly tempt us, and then talked of the sport we had en- 

K _ 


JL'J 10 * , 


[ *43 ] 


! |i 










V 


Is 


y 


v* 


IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 



joyed. All these things go to make up a pleasant hour. After 

\ M A,/ 



the meal was over, Dad filled his pipe, and while he courted 
My Lady Nicotine,” w T e placed the things in order and put 
more wood on the lire. 

After our lunch and rest w T e donned our hunting coats, 
a few more shells in our pockets, and started out for 

... 

the afternoon victims, if any should show themselves. This 
time we went out farther than in the morning. As we were 
traversing a gully bordered by trees, and very rocky, a rabbit 
jumped up from behind a huge boulder which Dad had passed 
by. I blazed away, and missed, having overshot him by four 
feet. Dad and Bud fired simultaneously, and the rabbit took 
two summersaults and lay still. I ran forward and was about 

. L ill \ 

U / \ 

to pick him up when the little demon jumped up and bolted 


like a shot out 


f \ 


of a cannon. Bunny no doubt had been stunned 




for a moment, but it was evident that he had not been hit in 

L V U ) V \ ~ 

the vital spot. We then continued down the valley and chased 


/ 






up two more rabbits, one of which was stopped by a shot from 
Dad s gun - 

The scenery about us was most striking; the trees were 




all bare of leaves, while the white mantle sent from heaven and 




the sky, of a leaden cast, was still sending down the frozen 




[144] 


IjKi.u 


W\\ /m 

ffiiWIigiiteMi 




MM 






IDYLLS OF BIRD LIFE 


moisture. We were thus admiring Nature’s panorama when 
two rabbits started up from under cover of ragweed. I stopped 
one of them, much to my delight and surprise; the other fell 
a victim of Dad’s gun. And so we put in the afternoon. Despite 
the fact that game was not so plentiful, we enjoyed the hours 

as they passed, which, after all, is the best part of an outing. 

j / \ 

Towards four o’clock it stopped snowdng, and the white 
hills and the snow-laden trees contrasted beautifully with the 
dull, leaden color of the December sky. Twilight was now 



‘■iff jtw 

,r Vv! 



m i/fob. 


rapidy advancing, which warned us to start back to the house 

/ \ ' , • ; < . 

and prepare for home. On the way back Bud had another op- 

. V 

portunity and killed a big rabbit which jumped under his feet. 

This put him in high glee, for it was his second. When we 

\ 

arrived at the house we extinguished the fire, cleaned our guns, 
and were then ready to start for town. We reached the traction 
at York at about 5 o’clock, and by 6 were enjoying a good, 
warm dinner at home. Our first experience with shotguns will 

always remain among the most pleasant memories of the past. 

\ 

\ ."vwjrY. 

/‘Like some lorn abbey now,The wpod 
Stands roofless in the hitter air; 

In ruins on its floor is strewed 

The carven foliage quaint and rare, 

And homeless winds complain along 
The columned choir once thrilled with song/’ 

Lowell. 








Do you ne’er think what wondrous beings these? 

Do you ne’er think who made them, and who taught 
The dialect they speak, where melodies 
Alone are the interpreter of thought? 

Whose household words are songs in many keys, 

Sweeter than instrument of man e’er taught!” 

Longfellow. 

The End. 












[146] 



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